


White Collar: Double or Nothing

by Phoenix_crysg1



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 61,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7006039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix_crysg1/pseuds/Phoenix_crysg1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the sequel to 'All or Nothing', which was a bit of a rewrite of the ending of the show to allow Peter and Neal to continue working together albeit under different circumstances. Peter and Neal delve into one of the most famous art crime cold cases in American history, the Gardner Museum Heist of 1990, and discover far more than they ever bargained for...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

White Collar: Double or Nothing

Chapter One

Stepping onto the elevator at the DC Federal Building Peter pressed the button for the tenth floor. Unlike the skyscraper that the White Collar office in New York had inhabited the J. Edgar Hoover building was only eleven stories on one side and eight on the other. It was early on Monday morning, Neal's first official day on the job as Art Crime's newest Agent. Peter was still having some trouble wrapping his mind around the events that had lead his CI into becoming his partner. Peter wasn't comfortable with Frost or his methods but at this point all he could do was hope that Frost's CIA agenda and his 'license to steal' didn't derail Neal's FBI career to the point of disaster. Peter's greatest fear was that Frost's sanctioned missions would also provide Neal with the kind of temptation and opportunity that could lead to highly unsanctioned behavior.

"Can't throw a fox in the hen house and just expect him to behave." Peter muttered to himself.

Trying to push uneasy thoughts to the side Peter stepped off the elevator. There was a short hallway that lead to the Art Crimes offices. As Peter approached he furrowed his brow as he suddenly heard laughter, the kind of group mirth that followed someone who was good at crowd pleasing telling a particularly good joke or in this case more likely sharing an embarrassing story. Peter had been the Section Chief in DC for five months now and he hated to think what tale about the boss's New York past Neal was currently telling his new audience.

Peter's suspicions were confirmed when he opened the large mahogany doors inlaid with a copper FBI insignia and stepped into the bullpen area of the Art Crimes office. Neal was sitting up on one of the office coordinator's desk with a box of fancy looking doughnuts next to him with a small crowd of Agents and support staff around him, all of which had fallen deathly silent the moment they spotted him. Peter didn't rule the Art Crimes department by fear or intimidation, he was well liked and honestly had their respect, but at the same he had a reputation for taking his job seriously and expecting those working for him to do the same. Peter had to assume whatever story Neal was regaling them with was undermining that aspect of his authority in one way or another.

Like school children scattering when the principle stepped out onto the play ground everyone suddenly remembered that they had work to do. One of the Agent's couldn't resist the allure of the law enforcement/doughnut love affair cliche as he snagged a coconut covered pastry. Prize in hand he turned around to face Peter who was doing his best to not look like an angry parent who had just busted a teenage party after coming home early.

"Morning, Chief." Agent Dammer greeted Peter with a guilty smile before hurrying off like the others had.

"You seem to have settled well into your new position as alpha dog around here." Neal chuckled as he hopped off the desk he'd been sitting on. "I remember Hughes used to be able to get you, Jones and Diana to clear out of a room with almost that exact same look. Have you been practicing?"

"I haven't had to use that look here until today."

"Luckily for you I'm here now to make sure you don't get rusty." Neal beamed as he picked up the box of bright pastries and offered it to him. "Breakfast?"

"That's not breakfast, Neal, that's a sugar bomb."

"Yes, but it's a really good sugar bomb." Neal smiled.

"Leske's Bakery?" Peter questioned as he read the box. "I didn't know they had a shop here in DC."

"They don't." Neal shrugged. "I had these flown in this morning."

"You're kidding…no, wait, of course you're not kidding." Peter rolled his eyes. "I'd better not find an expense report for that on my desk."

"That reminds me, I need you to show me how to fill one of those out."

Peter took a breath to retort only to think better of it. Everyone had gone about their day but several members of the support staff were still within ear shot. Not interested in engaging Neal like this in his first hour as an Agent Peter just shook his head sadly and headed for his office. Neal chuckled and followed him with a light excited step clearly enjoying the chance to get under Peter's skin. Peter wasn't sure why he had thought that things would be different now, he knew he should have known that five months at the Academy wasn't going to change Neal's caviler attitude towards life.

Following Peter into his office Neal closed the door behind himself, sensing that Peter wasn't as in a jovial mood as he was. The solid oak door gave them more privacy from the rest of the department than the old glass door did back at White Collar. Peter didn't usually keep his door closed, but he didn't protest Neal closing it now. Stepping over to his desk Peter picked up a thousand dollar expense report from Neal for a private courier from New York to DC for a 'classified' package.

"I'm not signing this."

"Relax, Peter, it's just a joke." Neal took the paper and crumpled it up. "I didn't really fly anything in from New York. I had used the box to pack some delicate items when I moved down here, I just picked some doughnuts up from the shop down the street and put them in the Leske box."

"Why am I not surprised that your first official act on the job was to con the office with fake donuts?"

"I'm not conning them, I'm using positive reinforcement and conditioned response to elevate their opinion of me subconsciously." Neal explained. "There's a difference. And they weren't fake so much as they were misrepresented."

"Neal…" Peter growled.

"Peter, I had to do something. This is D.C Art Crimes, 'Neal Caffrey' has been a house hold name here for years, and not in a good way."

"Your reputation certainly does proceed you."

"Alleged reputation." Neal corrected. "However, yes, it does. Even with Frost officially having me exonerated for the bond forging I'm still high on the list of suspects on a lot of the unsolved cases around here."

"In most of those cases you are the list, Neal."

"Exactly. It didn't really matter if the other Agents at White Collar trusted or even liked me. It matters here, these are my colleagues now and if I'm ever going to make it as an Agent I'm going to need the whole team to at the very least be willing to give me a chance."

"Just do good work, Neal, the rest will follow."

"I did good work in New York, did Jones or Diana ever truly trust me?"

"Do I have to even mention how many times you went behind both my own and their backs in that time as well?"

"Nine times out of ten that was because I couldn't take my problems to them or even you without risking being thrown right back in prison." Neal countered. "I want things to be different here, but a true 'fresh start' isn't something that even Frost can just give me. I'm going to have to work twice as hard as any new Agent just to prove I belong here."

Realized that he was just as guilty as the rest of the office for treating Neal for who he had been and not who he was becoming Peter nodded in agreement before smiling warmly at Neal. Instantly suspicious Neal shot him a questioning look.

"What?" Neal finally asked.

"The Academy did you far more good than I had hoped." Peter said. "You belong here, Neal, but you're right it's going to be an uphill battle for you for a while. However if you can stick to it I think that having to prove yourself is going to make you a better Agent in the long run."

"Frost has given me a real chance here to change my life and I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't serious about it."

"I know, I'm just still adjusting to it myself."

"So am I." Neal admitted with a smirk. "This whole responsibility thing is all very new to me."

"It shows." Peter teased.

"I'll get the hang of it, to be fair I've only officially been on the job for forty-five minutes." Neal smiled. "I haven't even moved into my new office yet."

"You've been on the job since the day you stepped foot in the Academy. You really have come a long way just by finishing that." Peter replied seriously. "I want you to know that I recognize that."

"Thank you."

"Although speaking of Frost, have you heard from him?"

"Only casually. He checked up on me a few times at the Academy, but he hasn't given me any assignments or anything like that. I think he's letting me get settled in here first."

"I still don't really know what I think about him."

"He's a war hero, and without his intervention I would have eventually killed myself from an accidental over dose if not a deliberate one."

"You wouldn't have been in that position without him either though." Peter pointed out.

"Peter, I'm trying to put my own past behind me, and I have to put Frost's transgressions against me aside as well if I'm going to move forward."

"I understand that, but I still say you need to watch yourself around him. You need to be very careful when he comes to collect his debt from you. Frost might be a slippery slope."

"Nice pun."

"I'm serious, Neal. Don't let Frost drag you too far outside the law in the pursuit of national security."

"You still don't trust me?"

"I'm your partner now, Neal, I wouldn't have allowed that to happen if I didn't trust you."

"Partner." Neal repeated with a smile. "I like the sound of it."

"I'm proud to call you that, but with Frost I fear you are very much just an 'asset', and the CIA doesn't have a great track record keeping their assets safe."

"Then it's a good thing that I'm an FBI Agent first, and a CIA asset second."

"You still have your loyalties divided."

"No, I don't...partner."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

"I do miss you."

Neal sighed heavily as he reached up and pressed his hand against his shoulder as he tried to get comfortable. Taking a step back Neal looked over the large high quality framed print of the New York skyline at sunset that he had just finished hanging on the wall of his office. The center of the photo was focused on the Chrysler Building and its iconic lights reminding him of the view from June's place. Having grown up in WitSec and been basically on the run most his life Neal had never really felt like any place felt like 'home' until he visited New York. The second he had stepped foot in the city he felt he belonged there. Neal regretted letting Alex talk him into Europe, and when he thought Kate might be back in New York he couldn't resist returning even though he had suspected the trap Peter had set for him there.

Washington DC had its beauty and charm as well, not to mention a strong and noticeable history. However after living the forest of skyscrapers and iconic landmarks of New York Neal couldn't help but feel that DC felt a little small. Feeling the need to be above the city as best he could Neal had arranged to stay at the largest penthouse room at the historic Old Post Office Pavilion through connections with an old friend. Technically the cathedral like building was still under reconstruction but his corner of what was soon going to be a luxury hotel was completed. Being the second highest building in the city the location offered a breathtaking view of the National Mall, he could even see the White House along with the Washington Monument. It also had the added advantage of being a block away from the Federal Building.

Still feeling a little home sick Neal shrugged his shoulders and tugged at his shirt. His shoulder hadn't been as much of a problem over the past few months, but it did still act up particularly when he was stressed. Reaching up again he pulled on the leather shoulder gun harness that he was wearing. Restless in the office Neal went over to his mahogany desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair before he forced himself to sit down to the paperwork that he was supposed to be looking through and signing. It was just the standard set papers for a new Agent assignment but it all needed to be filled out in triplicate. Picking up the colorful rubberband ball that he had stolen from the White Collar office Neal rolled it back and forth on his desk for a moment before putting it back down and picking up his phone and dialing out.

"Come on," Neal said impatiently as the phone rang "pick up, please."

'I'm sorry,' a digital female voice automatically answered the line 'the number you have dialed does not accept solicitations from Federal Agents, traitors or worse yet both.'

"Mozzie," Neal sighed once the answering machine beeped to take a message "you can't stay mad at me forever. I mean I suppose you can, but please don't. Call me back."

Neal waited a moment allowing the message to record silence before hanging up. Mozzie had been distrustful of Frost before he had learned that he was CIA, after learning that detail Mozzie had outright labeled him 'the enemy'. He also hadn't been exactly supportive the 'insane' idea of Neal going to the Academy, and he had stopped talking to him completely when he discovered that Neal was moving to DC to work with Peter in Art Crimes. Neal didn't want to lose Mozzie's friendship and he wasn't ready to give up on it, but he wasn't sure how to save it.

Focusing at the task at hand Neal started combing through the forms that had been waiting for him on his desk this morning. So far his first day at the FBI was not nearly as exciting as he'd hoped. He still had a lot to learn about the legal side of being an Agent that he had always let Peter take care of. A few hours sifting through the policies and procedures that he was going to need to deal with from now on was not Neal's idea of a good time and when there was a knock at the door he was more than happy to push the papers aside.

"Come in."

Peter stepped through the door and closed it behind him. He walked up to Neal's desk but didn't sit in either of the chairs that was in front of it.

"I never thought I'd see the day that Peter Burke would be knocking on my office door." Neal remarked honestly.

"I could have you moved out into the bullpen. Most probationary Agents don't get their own office."

"I'll be sure to feel special."

"Frost requested it." Peter said dryly.

"Ah." Neal smiled. "I'll have to thank him."

"I'm sure he'll give you the chance."

"No doubt he wanted me to be able to have some privacy when working on…whatever it is he wants me working on."

Peter didn't comment further even though it was clear he wanted to. Neal had the distinct feeling that Peter was becoming increasingly nervous about their deal with Frost. Peter probably figure the longer the CIA Agent waited to ask for something from the them the more likely that the something was going to be something big. Peter looked Neal over and furrowed his brow.

"Peter?"

"Neal, why are you wearing your shoulder harness at your desk?"

"I'm trying to get used to it," Neal tugged at his shirt again "it's uncomfortable."

"Stand up." Peter instructed. "Come here."

Neal eye Peter suspiciously not sure if he should comply. Peter didn't repeat himself he just stood there looking at Neal expectantly. Giving in Neal got to his feet, walked around his desk and stepped up to Peter. Peter studied him with a critical eye before gesturing for Neal to turn around. Turning his back to Peter Neal lifted up his arms when he nudged him. Peter ran his hands over the top of Neal's shoulders before tracing his fingertips down his back on either side looking for margins of Neal's shoulder blades. Peter had Neal put his arms back down and repeated the motion. Neal squirmed as Peter touch turned ticklish when he pushed his hands under Neal's armpits to see how high the shoulder harness was riding.

"It's too tight." Peter diagnosed. "Just like everything else you wear."

"It's called fashion, look it up." Neal teased.

Rolling his eyes Peter readjusted the leather strapping for a more natural fit.

"How's that?" Peter asked.

"Much better." Neal replied honestly as he shrugged his shoulders and turned back around. "Thank you."

"It's going to take some time to get use to it, but eventually you'll feel naked without it."

"Carrying the gun is definitely stranger to me than carrying the badge." Neal admitted. "You know they say in law enforcement that you're more likely to be accidentally shot by your partner than intentionally shot by anyone else. So you should be the one worried that I'm packing heat now."

"Actually statistically speaking as law enforcement you're at greater risk to use your gun against your yourself than be killed by someone else." Peter said seriously. "That's not going to happen to you, right?"

"What?" Neal asked confused. "I'm not a danger to myself if that's what you're asking."

"That is exactly what I'm asking." Peter confirmed.

"Why are you so worried about me lately?"

"Because of what I know."

"And what exactly do you think you know?"

"I know Mozzie isn't talking to you, I know you miss New York, I know becoming an Agent is a huge change in your life and it has to be a stressful one, I know you're struggling with how your past is affecting how you are seen by the other Agents, I know you are going to be dealing with Frost and whatever he wants, I know you never got any professional help for your conversion disorder, and I know your psych eval for the Academy had more than one red flag on it."

"Peter…"

"What I don't know is how well you're handling everything."

"I'm fine."

"I heard those words from you so many times after Rachel's death, and even though I never fully believe them you were so much worse than I had ever imagined, and by the time I realized that it was almost too late. I hate to think what might have happened if you'd had gun instead of those pills, at least they were a slow poison."

"I was never trying to kill myself, Peter, I was just trying to escape the pain."

"That's exactly what suicide victims are trying to do."

Neal was a little surprised by the gravity in Peter's voice. He knew that Peter worried about his sometimes self destructive behavior, but he never suspected that Peter thought he was at risk for such a drastic solution. Although when he thought about it he had only been suffering from the conversion disorder for a few months at the time that he'd started buy narcotic pain killers off the street. It was hard to know what another year of pain would have driven him to do.

"I'm good, Peter." Neal assured again. "I promise."

"What I want you to promise is that you'll come to me if that changes."

"Peter…have you lost someone to suicide?"

"That's not the point." Peter replied elusively. "I just want you to know that you can come to me with anything."

"I know that. However I'm in a better place now than I have been in a long time, despite some complications."

"You're life has been full of complications." Peter agreed.

"And it always will be."

Peter studied Neal for a moment before nodding in agreement. Neal waited to see if Peter would elaborate on his apparent past experience with a tragic and possibly preventable loss, but Peter didn't say anything more. Peter turned his attention to the framed picture of the Chrysler Building. Staring at the New York skyline Peter seemed to have settled into a slightly melancholy mood. Neal couldn't tell if it was because he missed the city as well or if he was lost in darker thoughts. Before Neal could ask what he was thinking Peter visibly pushed whatever was bothering him out of his mind and turned to Neal with the enthusiastic smile that he reserved strictly for when he had a new case for them to work on.

"What we need is to get going on a case." Peter announced. "Are you still hot to trot on the Gardner heist?"

"What you mean the unsolvable, and mysterious largest private property theft in history that includes not only Rembrandt's only seascape, but one of only thirty-four known Vermeer works as well as five Degas? Yeah…I'm still mildly interested."

"You do know the statue of limitations was up on the case six years ago, right?"

"So?" Neal shrugged.

"So you're not going to be able to arrest anyone for the theft."

"It's not about the arrest, it's about recovering a piece of history."

"It would certainly be a 'feather in your fedora' to solve the Gardner case."

"I just want to hold Storm on the Sea Galilee." Neal smiled. "I always wished I'd been a part of that heist."

"So I don't have to worry about finding out it was you?"

"I was thirteen, Peter."

Peter narrowed his eyes and glared at Neal in mock suspicion.

"It wasn't me." Neal chuckled. "I started young, but not that big."

"I think you're going to find that returning art to its rightful place is a lot more satisfying than stealing it even if the pay isn't nearly as good."

"I don't know about that last part, the five million dollar reward the Gardner is offering is not bad pocket change."

"You know that the Bureau wouldn't accept that money, right?"

"Does that mean I can't?"

"You're part of the Bureau now, Agent Caffrey."

"Right…remind me why I wanted this job again?"

"I hope it's because you wanted to be able to participate in the paperwork involved in solving a 26 year old cold case rather than just sitting across my desk throwing a rubberband ball in the air to yourself complaining about being bored while I write it all up."

"…I did not think this whole 'Agent' thing through."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sitting at his desk Peter sifted through a heap of case files recently handed in by his team of seventeen Agents. With the entire National Stolen Art File on their case load and occasional international agency team up for art recovery there was never a lack of active cases to keep everyone busy. The Art Crimes Agents were highly specialized and used to working independently with little to no over sight. Peter was looking over the work mostly because it was his job to, but he also knew the best way to earn the team's respect was to not only show he was paying attention to what they were doing but to offer guidance when a case started to go cold. Peter was pulled away from his reading when there was a knock at his open door.

"Hey, Chief." Agent Aubrey greeted casually. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, come in."

"Is this about the Malaki case?" Aubrey asked as he stepped in and took a seat in front of Peter's desk. "For such a sloppy smash and grab they don't seem to be in a hurry to sell it, with what else was taken it had the feel of a 'this looks like it might be worth something' snatch rather than a targeted theft. I've got several ears to the ground, but so far none of my CIs have reported anyone trying to fence the Yegorovich or even just a whisper about it anywhere."

"I don't think you're going to find it, it's probably been destroyed."

"Destroyed? Are your White Collar senses tingling?" Aubrey chuckled.

"As a matter of fact they are." Peter smiled. "This case reeks of insurance fraud or at least a variant of it."

"I checked their financials and neither spouse is in any kind of money trouble that would warrant committing fraud."

"It's not always about money." Peter said as he pulled out the crime scene photos. "This whole place has been decorated in a modern minimalist style, probably within the last year or so considering that's when this whole glass and steel look became trendy. According to the insurance a year ago the wife had the painting reappraised, I'm willing to bet you'll find she'd been quietly trying to find a buyer since."

"1850's Victorian woman's oil portrait does clash with the glass davenport by Fendi." Aubrey agreed. "You know the wife seemed a little too calm about the break in when I talked to her, it was the husband who was the more distraught over the theft. But if the carpet no longer matched the drapes why not just sell it, even at a loss?"

"It's most likely a family heirloom of his."

"Ruining her new metropolitan taste, but reminding him of home." Aubrey smiled. "I like it, I'll take a closer look at the wife."

"She probably tried to find a buyer who was willing to offer her husband a high enough price to make him part with it."

"When that failed she paid someone one to take it and destroy it to make sure it didn't find its way back to her."

"Just a theory."

"Certainly worth looking into." Aubrey said. "Thanks, Chief."

"Anytime."

Peter handed the case file back to Aubrey. Getting to his feet the Agent took the file and tucked it under his arm. Heading for the exit he stopped in the door frame and hesitated to leave. Aubrey turned back around looking like he wanted to say something but not sure he wanted to press his luck with his relatively new boss.

"Something wrong, Aubrey?" Peter asked.

"I'm sure it's nothing, but do you know that Neal's been rummaging around down in Evidence for the past three hours?"

Peter narrowed his eyes disapprovingly at Aubrey's word choice.

"I…uh…I just thought…" Aubrey added awkwardly.

"I don't need hourly updates on Agent Caffrey's whereabouts."

"Right, of course not. Sorry, Chief."

Peter made it clear that the conversation was over by turning his attention back to the files on his desk. Aubrey took the hint and left, closing the door behind him. Sighing heavily Peter got to his feet and went over to open his door again. Peter was starting to wonder if he should have engaged Aubrey in more of a discussion about Neal, but at the same time he couldn't see a conversation like that going anywhere but down hill. The other Art Crime Agents were suspicious of Neal and his entry into the Academy because it was a suspicious situation. Peter had decided that not drawing attention to it was the best move. He'd let Neal's natural charm and hopefully eventually his good track record smooth things out between himself and the other Agents.

"Although 'rummaging' around in Evidence on your first day was not a great move, Neal." Peter muttered to himself.

As much as Peter wanted to head directly down to Evidence to see what Neal was up to he went back to his desk instead. Going down to Evidence would mean walking past the bullpen to the elevators and the last thing he needed right now was to have Aubrey and the others thinking that he was checking up on Neal. Reminding himself he needed to trust Neal Peter went back to sorting through the files.

After signing off on the closed cases he'd been handed and glancing through the active ones that had Agents assigned to them Peter turned to the National Stolen Art File database. The gigantic database was an overwhelming amount of work, but no case was truly closed until the work was found. Part of his job was deciding which cases got priority. Right now Peter was looking for a recent local case for he and Neal to work on since the Gardner case was going to be more of a long term pet project of Neal's. Coming across an unusual theft from three days ago Peter smiled, it was just strange enough to get Neal's attention. Printing out the information Peter pulled a new folder out of his desk and started a case file.

Looking over at the clock Peter found it was ten minutes past five. Since arriving at Art Crimes Peter had managed to be home in time for dinner almost every night, a change from his days at White Collar that Elizabeth heavily appreciated. He also hadn't been shot at in DC or even had reason to draw his weapon. With Neal in the field some of that was likely to change now that he'd be more actively working cases again, but all in all Art Crimes was a safer position than most FBI subdivisions.

Case file in hand Peter walked over to Neal's office only to find it empty. Neal's jacket was still on the back of the chair so it was unlikely that he'd left for the night. It had been just after two when Aubrey came to tell Peter that Neal was down in Evidence. Peter placed the new case on Neal's empty desk so that it would be there for him in the morning. Going back to his office Peter collected up his things and put on his jacket to leave. He said good night to the staff that was staying a little late and headed for the elevator. Once on the elevator Peter hesitated as to which floor to push, in the end Peter couldn't just go home.

Swiping his key card against the reader he pressed the button that would take him to the basement level. In the basement Peter showed his badge to the guard sitting at the desk behind bullet proof glass. Signing in Peter noted Neal's graceful signature a few slots up with no signature for signing out. Peter headed back to the Evidence locker which required another sign in, but Neal wasn't there. Walking to the end of the hallway Peter stepped into the case file room. Cases that had grown cold were stored down here to save on space in the offices. Although much of the world was moving to digital format the FBI still kept a lot of its work on hard copies since they were impossible to hack into.

Peter found that Neal had set up the small working desk in the file room with a stack of about three dozen case files. Neal was in the back of the maze of filing cabinets flipping through a file. Hearing that he had company Neal returned to the desk with the file in hand.

"Hey, Peter. What's up?"

"Why are you down here?"

"Because I can." Neal chuckled.

"Neal…"

"I'm working, I swear."

"On what?"

"Crime."

"Crime?" Peter repeated dubiously.

Neal just smiled brightly. It was a smile that Peter was painfully familiar with, the one Neal used when he felt he was being particularly clever. Taking the bait even though he knew he shouldn't Peter picked up one of the files and leafed through it before looking through two more. Picking up the fourth file Peter noticed the pattern. He looked up at Neal disapprovingly.

"These are all you, aren't they?" Peter asked knowingly.

"Case closed."

"Neal, no. Frost can't make this all disappear. You'll be twice as noticeable by the hole in the files that you leave behind as you are just letting these sit down here."

"Relax, Peter, I've got a great idea that doesn't leave any holes, and it doesn't involve Frost. I'm going to burn my best alias on this."

"You are not 'framing' Charles Litmore for your past crimes Neal." Peter said firmly.

"You know about Charles?" Neal asked surprised. "I thought he was bullet proof."

"He is."

"Then how do you know about him?"

"Intuition."

"Nice. I could have sworn I was more careful with Charles than any of the others." Neal smiled. "Peter, I have to say I'm impressed. More impressed than when I found you knew about Steve Tabernacle. I created Charles with specifically avoiding you in mind. He is perfect though, I can connect him to all of this and I can come up with a death certificate from two years ago so we don't have to worry about actually trying to catch him."

"No alias is perfect, you can't draw attention to yourself by mysteriously linking all of these crimes to someone who isn't on any watch lists and who doesn't even exist. You can't just undo your past Neal."

"I wasn't just going to magically solve these, I was also going to connect this with some stuff that happened while I was in prison to help avoid suspicion."

"I will not have you cleaning up Mozzie's messes like this either."

"Alex's actually."

"Whatever." Peter growled. "It's not happening. If these cases haven't been solidly connected to you by now then just let sleeping dogs lay."

"Now that I'm here I was worried that some of these might come up again by the other Agents looking to get rid of me. Maybe I could steer one of the other Agents towards Charles. Aubrey…"

"Aubrey is already watching you. Just leave it alone. I found a legitimate case for us to work on this week."

"What about the Gardner?"

"We can keep working on that as well, but that case is not going to be a quick win and you need a quick win."

"This is a quick win." Neal pointed out as he gestured to the files.

"No, this is a quick cheat."

Neal looked down at the files for a moment as he weighed out his options before nodding in agreement. Peter was relieved that this wasn't going to turn into an argument. It was heartening to see that Neal seemed to truly want to change who he was, even if he wasn't going about it the right way.

"So what do you have in mind?" Neal asked.

"A set of Nazca Skulls were stolen recently."

"Nazca? As in ancient ritualistically deformed skulls?"

"That's right. Anything art or culture based is in the National Stolen Art File."

"I'm game."

"I thought you would be. The file is on your desk, we can go over it in the morning."

"Okay, I'm going to clean these up."

"Want help putting them back?"

"Sure, good to have two sets of prints on them anyway."

Peter smiled and gingerly picked up the top file with exaggerated care to get as little evidence on it as possible. Neal took it away from him and made an equal show of putting a perfect set of prints on it. With the systematic filing system it didn't take long for the pair to place the files back in the cabinets where hopefully they would stay.

"Alright, all back safe and sound." Neal said. "Let's hope they stay there."

"Neal, I know what you were trying to do with all of this, but just focus on going forward right now."

"Speaking of which I'm meeting my landlord for the keys to my new place tonight. Want to come check it out?"

"Sounds good. Elizabeth invited you over for dinner tonight, it slipped my mind until now."

"Dinner would be great. Picking up the keys won't take long, it's right across the street."

"There aren't any apartments around here Neal."

"I never said it was an apartment."

Neal didn't elaborate further. Knowing Neal loved to show off a surprise Peter didn't press for answers he just waited outside the front entrance to the Federal Building while Neal went upstairs to get his jacket. It was just settling into Spring and the air was heavy with the scent of cherry blossoms. If it was one thing DC had over Midtown New York it was an over abundance of trees and green spaces. Arriving downstairs Neal lead Peter a block and a half away and across the street to the triple archways of the Gothic looking Old Post Office Building.

"Home sweet home." Neal announced.

"Here?" Peter looked up at the historic clock tower that rose out of the center of the tall building. "I thought this was a luxury hotel."

"It is." Neal confirmed.

"Let me guess: you know a guy."

"Not exactly."

Neal encouraged Peter to follow him up to the large glass doors. Peter furrowed his brow as he noticed that there weren't any lights on inside or anyone at the large cherry wood front desk. His sinking suspicions about the place were confirmed when Neal pulled a lock pick set out of his inner jacket pocket.

"Wait, is this place even open yet?"

"Nope." Neal chuckled as he managed to spring the lock. "It opens in September, come on in."

"Neal this is breaking and entering, and trespassing."

"I have permission to 'let myself in'." Neal assured as he swung the door open. "Trust me."

Peter took a breath to protest but in the end he knew that arguing was pointless. Hoping not to be arrested Peter followed Neal into the front entrance of the grand hotel. Peter decided that whatever finishing touches they were performing to get ready for their big opening must be in the rooms themselves because the front lobby was perfect and amazing. Neal stepped across the inlaid marble floor to an ornately decorated elevator door. The renovations had taken to heart the flowing Art Nouveau style that was at its peak at the turn of the 20th century when the building had been originally constructed. The graceful curves and scroll work had been popular before it was replaced by the more angular Art Deco trend of the 1920's.

The delicately stained glass inside the elevator held an abstract sweeping pattern that gave the impression of a graceful tree in the breeze. Clearly proud of his new, and probably illegal, residence Neal pressed the brass button for the top floor. The doors opened in the middle of an elegant hallway that held more works of Art Nouveau on the walls and a deep red carpet. The dark cherry wood door at the right end of the short hallway was standing open.

Neal encouraged Peter to follow him down the hall and into the large penthouse suite. The open plan studio had the same Art Nouveau feel, but if anything it looked like twice as much money had been poured into it than the dazzling front lobby. Peter had no doubt in his mind that all of the hand carved turn of the century furniture was authentic. The large windows that dominated the far wall and right hand wall looked out over the National Mall with a spectacular view of the Capitol city that was just starting to light up as the sun set. The kitchen was separated from the rest the living space by an ebony island bar with copper accents. A set of copper pans that had never seen a day of cooking in their lives were suspended high above the island and were matched by the copper refrigerator and gas stove set in the black granite counter top.

Peter tensed as a woman in a leopard print dress tight enough to be mistaken for a tattoo stepped out of the large walk in closet that lead into the bathroom. Her figure was a little too perfectly hourglass to be natural seeing as her corseted waistline looked like it barely had room for the organs typically found in an adult human. Her blood red dyed hair was pulled back from her face but fell in large loose curls down her back. Spotting Neal and Peter her face lit up with a smile made up of perfectly even and white teeth. She hurried over with tiny steps in her dangerously high heels with an unnatural bounce to her over sized bust line. With a classic feel to her whole look she was almost like a modernized 1950's pin up.

"Nick, darling!" Vivian greeted enthusiastically. "Always wonderful to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Vivian."

Vivian threw her arms around Neal but was careful when she hugged him not to smear her make-up. Neal returned the affection by just lightly touching her shoulders as if he felt she was delicate in some way. Peter had initially assumed she was in her early forties when she'd first arrived on the scene, but with her closer there was a slight unnatural tightness to her skin and fine lines in areas that couldn't be erased by modern medicine that betrayed her as being much older. Peter couldn't be sure but he got the sense that she was probably nearly a decade older than he was. The woman Neal had met in the Hamptons for the sapphire and diamond platinum chalice that Neal had used to try and draw Frost out stepped away from Neal and turned her bright green eyes on Peter.

"I see you brought me dessert." Vivian purred as she flashed Peter a predatory smile. "What's your name, Sweetness?"

"Vivian, this is Peter." Neal introduced. "And he is not on the menu."

"Are you sure?" Vivian asked Peter directly as suddenly invaded his personal space and traced a well manicured nail along his lapel. "I have quite the appetite, and you certainly look eatable."

"I…uh…" Peter flushed as Vivian's Jean Patou perfume invaded his senses.

"He's happily married." Neal added.

"No one's that happy." Vivian chuckled as she turned around making sure she brushed her backside against Peter.

"I am." Peter corrected as he took a large step away from Vivian.

"You just don't know any better." Vivian chuckled.

"You're wasting your time with him, Viv. Trust me."

"Fine." Vivian sighed in exaggerated defeat. "I suppose my days of ruining marriages are over."

"I highly doubt that." Neal chuckled.

"Flattery, it's always been your best feature, Nick." Vivian looked Neal over. "Well second best, third if I really had to put a number to it…"

Peter shot Neal a sour look that Neal just answered with an innocent shrug. Vivian walked over to the ebony bar and picked up a gold key chain with a set of keys dangling from it. She brought them over but didn't relinquish them right away.

"Like what I've done with the place." Vivian asked knowingly.

"I do."

"Much like yourself, I expect you to keep it in good shape for me."

"Of course."

"I have a Senator to see and then a flight to catch." Vivian declared as she glanced at her rose gold Bulgari watch. "Don't do anything in here that I wouldn't do."

"That is not a long list."

"It really isn't."

Vivian stepped up close to lean against Neal and tucked the keys in his breast pocket. She kissed his cheek leaving a crimson lipstick stain. She turned to give Peter a similar mark but he held up both his hands and took another step away from her. Vivian winked at him instead before saying her good byes to Neal and leaving. Neal slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled at Peter.

"So this is how you got this place, by being cougar bait?" Peter asked distastefully.

"It's not like that. She only comes to DC a few days out of the year and she needs someone to look after her place while she's gone."

"And you'll be sleeping on the couch when she visits?"

"I'll deal with that bridge when I come to it."

"I suggest you burn that bridge when you come to it, at the very least use protection while crossing it, 'Nick'."

Neal laughed at Peter's obvious disapproval in his new landlord. He did have to admit that he need to be careful around Vivian, she had gotten the best of him before. Spotting a glass of red wine already poured on the marble counter of the mini bar Neal walked over and picked it up. He gave it a quick sniff, it seemed safe but with Vivian's history of slipping him hallucinogens in the past he decided it probably wasn't worth the risk. He took the wine over to the sink and poured it out.

"Dare I ask?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a long story, let's just say she has a way of getting what she wants."

"I need to get home to Elizabeth, now." Peter said looking increasingly uncomfortable even with Vivian gone. "Are you coming over or staying her in case 'Viv' comes back?"

"Dinner sounds great, the kitchen isn't open down stairs yet, but I hear they are getting several five star chefs."

"Of course they are." Peter grumbled.

Neal tried not to laugh at Peter's disgruntled tone but failed. They were just about to step out of the hotel room turned apartment when Peter's cell phone rang. Peter pulled out the phone and furrowed his brow as he read the number before answering it. Neal had feeling that he was on his own for dinner from what he could hear from Peter's side of the conversation. Hanging up Peter apologized to Neal, one of his Agents out in California needed some brass back up and he was going to have to head back to the office for a conference call. With Agents all over the country as part of the Art Crimes department these events were bound to happen now and then.

Neal knew Elizabeth wouldn't mind him coming over without Peter, but he decided to decline the invitation for tonight. Peter took one last look around the opulent hotel room that Neal wouldn't have been able to afford even on both the FBI and CIA payroll before shaking his head and leaving for what was probably going to be a late night at the office. Neal offered to join him but Peter told him there wouldn't be anything he could do to help with the situation. Shortly after Peter left Neal was just starting to think about what he was going to do for food when his own phone rang with a blocked number.

"Mozzie?" Neal answered hopefully.

"No, sorry, just me."

"Frost?"

"Hey, Caffrey," Frost greeted cheerfully "I know this is a little last minute but do you have dinner plans?"

"Uh…well, not anymore."

"Good, meet me at the Blue Duck Tavern in half an hour."

"Is this business or pleasure?"

"It's always a pleasure doing business with me." Frost chuckled.

"We'll see about that."

"So you'll be there?"

"If I don't are you just going to arrive here seeing as I assume you already know where I live?"

"I do and I will." Frost admitted. "But I'm not a food delivery service and the Blue Duck has the best steak DC has to offer. It's not Per Se, but I'm picking up the tab on this one."

"Then I guess it's a date."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Arriving at the Blue Duck Tavern a few minutes late Neal followed the hostess through a corridor with glass walls that displayed a very impressive wine collection behind the thick protective glass. The stone floor and warm light added to the ambiance of the modern style decor. Neal had to look twice at the far wall of the main dinning area which at first he thought was made of blue stone, but what proved to actually be rectangular stripes of denim jeans that had been used as wallpaper. The downstairs area seemed like little too public of a place for Frost to want to meet to discuss anything illegal giving Neal the impression at first that this might indeed just be a social visit. However when the hostess lead Neal upstairs he found himself in a much more secluded area that didn't look open to the general public with low level lighting and only a few scattered business or possibly political diners.

Neal spotted Frost sitting at a mahogany table near the window in the far corner and Frost waved him over. The upstairs room had been designed to offer the dinners far more privacy than the main floor, with the tables a good fifteen feet from one another and various large artificial plants scattered around that helped obscure some of the view. From the look of the men at the few other occupied tables spread out from one another Neal got the impression that anyone eating up here knew to mind their own business so that other didn't mind theirs. Nestled in the corner with his back to the wall near the window Frost had a good vantage point to keep his functional right eye on the room with no way to sneak up behind him and the wall protecting his blind left side. In the lower light Frost's glass eye glittered brighter than his real one making it more noticeable.

Frost got to his feet as Neal approached the table, smoothing out his royal blue Charet tie as he did so. Wearing a custom fit Armani charcoal colored suit Frost gave off a very different impression than the polyester blend outfit he had been wearing the first time Neal had met him when he was pretending to be the socially awkward 'Professor' Devon Frost. With a gleaming smile splitting his dark face Frost held his hand out for Neal to shake. Neal accepted the offer before sitting down across from Frost. Neal still wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting but Frost seemed very relaxed and casual.

"Glad you could come, Neal." Frost said. "How was your first day at the Bureau?"

"I'm still settling in." Neal admitted.

"Give it a week and it will feel like home. How's Peter taking to being Section Chief?"

"He can already chase the other Agents out of the room with just a glare."

"Perfect." Frost chuckled. "I thought he'd fit that role well. Does he have you working on a case yet?"

"Two actually."

"He expects you to hit the ground running, eh?" Frost chuckled. "Or is he just trying to keep you busy to keep you out of trouble?"

"Usually I'd say it was the latter, but the first case was my own choice. I've always wanted to look into the Gardner heist."

"It's certainly a classic." Frost nodded.

"Is it something you've looked into?" Neal asked, managing to get a question of his own in to the conversation.

"Naw." Frost shrugged indifferently.

"I would think 500 million worth of missing art would be right up your alley."

"That case is a little too…'domestic' for my taste." Frost winked with his glass eye which had an oddly disconcerting effect. "Don't get me wrong if anyone on my watch list was selling anything on the list of missing goods from the Gardner I'd perk right up, but as it is that's a back burner case in my world. It would be nice to get the Rembrandts back though if nothing else."

"The main theory is that the Gardner works were never sold, there is a good chance they are all still together in one place and that the men who stole them were just thugs hired to do so for a private collector."

"For pulling of the heist of the century they were not exactly skilled art thieves." Frost agreed.

"Slashed the paintings right out of their frames." Neal tisked as he shook his head sadly. "It wouldn't have taken them more than ten extra minutes to pull the staples out and remove them properly. Instead they put a knife through two Rembrandts and a Vermeer…I'm angry just thinking about it. It's was an atrocity."

"Fascinating." Frost smiled.

"What?"

"You sound like a Fed already."

"Just because you steal something doesn't mean you can't respect it."

"Amen."

Frost lifted up his glass of ice water and held it out for Neal to clink against it. Chuckling Neal picked up his own water and humored Frost in the unusual toast. Starting to relax in Frost's company Neal started to notice he was getting genuinely hungry. Before he could ask if dinner had been an empty promise the waitress appeared out of seemingly nowhere with two identical plates that held perfectly seared rib eye steaks and a colorful display of an eclectic variety of vegetables with some sort of sauce drizzled across the plate that was more for decoration than flavor. Putting down the meals in front of the men she was quickly followed by another waiter who had a pair of glasses filled with a deep red wine. As quickly as they had come the two employees vanished.

"I took the liberty of ordering for us both before you arrived, mostly because I was hungry." Frost explained. "I hope you like your steak rare otherwise I'm afraid we can't stay friends, it's simply the only way to cook a steak."

"I've been trying to explain that to Peter for years." Neal replied admiring the artistic presentation of the meal. "If you don't watch him carefully he'll turn a good steak into a hockey puck."

"Unacceptable." Frost mocked. "Bryant complains as well, he says I might as well just sink my teeth into a live cow and cut out the middle man if I'm not interested in actually cooking it."

"Where is Bryant?"

"He's not listening in if that's what you're asking." Frost replied as he cut into the bright red steak. "I didn't feel like I needed back up this time around."

"But you did feel the need to make sure I didn't have any either." Neal accused lightly.

"What?"

"You don't really expect me to believe that Peter got called back to the office minutes before he and I were headed to his house for dinner."

"Feeling a little paranoid, Neal?" Frost teased.

"Wouldn't you if you were me?"

"Good point. I didn't call Peter away, I promise. Although I did want to get you alone tonight." Frost admitted. "I was going to wait til later to call assuming that you'd be with Peter tonight."

"How did you know to call right then? Do you have my apartment bugged or Peter's phone tapped?"

"Neither. I do however have both of your cell phones on 'locate'. I checked to see where you two were. When Peter left and you didn't I assumed you were free for dinner."

"I've had enough of being tracked." Neal said darkly. "You have no right…"

"I'm sorry, Neal, I didn't think of that." Frost interrupted with an apology. "I've been watching people for so long and been watched in return that I've just gotten used to it. It's not even a special tracker or anything, it's part of just about any smart phone operating system that shares your location with friends and vice versa."

"So I can track you?" Neal asked doubtfully.

"Absolutely." Frost confirmed. "Pull your phone out and check the Location Services, you'll find me there."

Neal decided to call Frost's bluff and pulled out his phone. Flicking through the menu options Neal found the app and opened it. The screen that came up gave him the option to check on Frost, Bryant, and Peter's location. Neal tapped on Frost's name and although his phone was telling him Frost was five feet away Neal doubted that he could count on the application always being truthful about Frost and Bryan's location. Choosing not to check to see if Peter was still at the office Neal turned off all of the phone's location services even though he was certain that Frost could just remotely turn them back on.

"Neal, please don't be angry. You had to know I had the ability to track your phone…I'm black ops CIA, you know that about me." Frost said bluntly. "I'm a strong believer in safety in numbers and part of that is knowing where people I can count on are."

"Privacy still matters."

"In this digital age privacy is just an illusion, Neal." Frost mused sounding a lot like Mozzie. "Video surveillance is so cheap these days that it's everywhere. Step into the back seat of a taxi cab and you're on video, walk across a busy street and the traffic cam has eyes on you, this restaurant recorded both of us entering through the front door. There are microphones set up all over this city that instantly alert the police and the FBI if there are gun shots fired and it can triangulate the shots to within ten meters of the source. How many times have you ended up in the background of some photo of a giggling girl pretending to take a selfie but really just wanting to show her girlfriends the uncommonly handsome guy sitting one table over?"

Neal couldn't help but to automatically glance over his shoulder even though the other tables here seemed to be minding their own business. Neal suddenly realized that although he could hear the others talking softly he couldn't make out any words. A look around proved that the walls and ceiling were made with acoustic dampening materials and there was a very low white noise hiss that further scrambled the soundscape. The upstairs of the Blue Duck was obviously a common and purposefully meeting ground for the DC elite.

"You think I sit with my back to the wall because I'm afraid I'm going to get shot with a gun?" Frost chuckled. "Hell no, I'm making sure no one is sneaking a pic of me with the tiny electronic miracle that 99% of the population obsessively carries around in their pocket. On the plus side crime, particular violent crime, is getting harder to get away now that every citizen is armed with video ability."

"Alright, alright." Neal sighed in surrender. "Point taken."

"If it makes you feel better I will call you and ask you where you are instead."

"Thanks." Neal replied dryly.

"I'm sorry, Neal, I really wasn't thinking I should have realized that being tracked was a bit of a sore spot for you considering the past few years." Frost apologized. "Don't let this spoil your appetite, this steak is too good to let it get cold."

Neal did find that most of his appetite was gone, however at Frost's insistence he did try the steak and had to admit that it was amazing. Frost watched Neal with a concerned expression for a moment before returning to his own meal. Feeling that Frost was waiting until after they were done eating before telling him why he'd asked him out here Neal ate through half of what he'd been served like it was a chore to be completed before pushing the rest away. Seeing that things weren't going as well as he'd hoped Frost put his silverware down before reached down by his feet to pull a case file out of his shoulder bag.

"Okay, Neal, let's get back on track." Frost said as he dropped his voice to increase their privacy. "I have an assignment for that should cheer you up."

"I don't need cheering up. I'm irritated, not depressed."

"I'm sensing that, and I'm truly sorry. I don't really socialize with anyone other than Bryant these days and I tend to forget how it's done."

"Clearly."

"This should help." Frost put the file down in front of Neal and opened it displaying a profile page with a small picture of a man of at least partial Middle Eastern decent in what looked like a driver's license photo. "This is Alan Bashiri and he has an Afshin Pirhashemi painting that I need you to get for me."

"Get for you?" Neal repeated distastefully.

"Do you like the term 'acquire' better?"

"Not really. I don't understand, is he a terrorist?"

"That's racial profiling, Neal, and I resent it." Frost teased.

"I just assumed since you want me to steal from him that he must have some sort of connection."

"No, nothing like that. He's third generation American, his background is Egyptian, he's the CFO of a medical electronic company in Baltimore that makes various devices. He's perfectly clean. I mean he's a democrat but I don't hold that against him."

"Is the painting stolen?"

"No, he bought it at auction a few weeks back."

"Then why you want me to 'acquire' it?"

"This painting has recently come up on the 'Ivory List'. It's a…"

"It's a list of most wanted black market art, a wish list for the wealthy collectors who don't care how they get it." Neal finished. "It's like a reverse Ebay, buyers put up what they want and what they are willing to pay, sellers can decide what jobs they want."

"Of course you'd know about the Ivory List." Frost nodded in approval. "I don't recall your name ever coming up when we've been investigating it though and I've kept my eye on it very closely for years."

"No, I never had any interest in it. Working the Ivory List is a good way to get killed, less talented but patient thieves will often stake out a piece on the list and wait for someone else to take it so they can murder the original thief to take the piece once it's past whatever security it was behind." Neal explained. "Plus I didn't want to be an errand boy for eccentric rich men, I used a proper fence anytime I ended up with a piece."

"Smart move, and in this case I'm going to be your fence."

"To what end?"

"Don't worry about the details." Frost shrugged.

"Too late, I'm worried."

"Let's just say that we've been trying to catch the buyer who posted the listing with his hand in the cookie jar for several years now with no success, but we've never had a chance like this. He might not be actively seeking terrorists to fund, but he certainly knows that he's a major source of income for them and he doesn't care. It's complicated, but I'm not asking you to get mixed up in the messier side of things, you just need to get the painting and Bryant and I will take care of the rest."

"So my job is just to steal from an innocent man." Neal stated rather than asked.

"Yes." Frost confirmed with a bright smile that faded slightly when he saw the hesitant look Neal was giving him. "I'm sorry, is that a problem?"

"Frost…I'm really trying to clean up my act."

"What? Why?" Frost asked genuinely surprised. "There's no need to clean up anything. I want you dirty, Neal…wow, that did not sound good."

"It really didn't."

"Don't worry I'm not gay." Frost chuckled before he looked Neal over. "Well maybe a little gay for you, but who wouldn't be?"

"Amazingly enough the odd turn this conversation has suddenly taken isn't making me feel any more comfortable."

"I'm sorry, I guess I just didn't expect you to be uncomfortable with this job in the first place." Frost apologized. "I thought you knew from the start that this is what you signed up for. I told you who I am and what I do before you agreed to any of this."

"You told me that Peter and I would be solving lost treasure riddles to help prevent terrorists from funding attacks on American soil."

"And I still have big plans for you two with that, I have a dozen cases for you to chose from when the time comes. However I wanted to let you and Peter settle into the Art Crime division a little more before handing you two 'extra work'."

"Then why are you asking me to do this now?"

"Because this is a quick and easy job, and not to mention the other reason I have you. I didn't originally approach you to join us because you're a world class thief, but since you are I might as well make use of that talent as well."

"I don't like being used." Neal snarled.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes you did."

Taken aback by Neal's aggressive tone Frost paused to reevaluate the situation. Neal's heart was racing, he hated risking everything he'd worked the past five months at the Academy to gain by defying Frost, but at the same time he didn't want Frost thinking that he was just going to blindly accept any assignment handed to him. He certainly didn't want his first mission for Frost being something that was going to instantly end up on Peter's desk as a case file.

"Why are you acting like I'm the bad guy here?" Frost broke the silence. "Did Peter tell you that I'd only ever see you as an asset? That he thinks I'd sacrifice you to get what I want without a second thought?"

"The idea has certainly crossed both our minds."

"That's not what this is." Frost assured. "You're part of my team, Neal, you and Peter both. I am a military man at heart and my team is *everything* to me. When something goes wrong I don't lose men I lose brothers. I laid my career on the line for you, and I would lay my life down for you if it ever came to that. You are not just an asset."

Neal wasn't sure how to respond to Frost's heartfelt reply. Knowing Frost's military past and what he'd been through for his country Neal found himself wanting to believe him, however recalling Frost's tactics reminded him that of all the con artists he'd ever dealt with in a way Frost was the best he'd ever seen. Gritting his teeth in frustration Neal brought his hand down off the table and put it in his lap to hide it from Frost as his ring and pinkie finger started to cramp and curl in towards his palm.

"I should have come to both of you on this, shouldn't have I?" Frost sighed heavily when Neal didn't say anything. "I just felt that Peter probably wasn't ready for you to be stealing again, he's certainly not ready for me to be asking you to. He's always been so protective of you, probably because you remind him of Ethan."

"Who?" Neal asked automatically not recognizing the name.

"He never told you?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if he had." Neal said icily. "Who's Ethan?"

"I…I'm sorry, It's not my place to tell you." Frost shook his head looking guilty. "I shouldn't have said anything. Please, do us all a favor and don't ask Peter about him, that conversation will not go well if he's not ready to have it and he might never be ready for that. I'm sorry I mentioned him, just forget it."

Neal narrowed his eyes suspiciously as he regarded Frost. It had felt like Frost had slipped the unknown name into the conversation organically, but it could have just as easily been a planned move. By bringing up someone that Peter was supposedly keeping a secret was a good way to try and create some friction between them and cast doubt on Peter's own intentions. Warning him not to ask Peter for the truth for his own sake was the perfect cover. Ethan probably never even existed or was no one of consequence.

On the other hand Neal had to admit that Peter rarely talked about his own past and the bits and pieces that Neal had learned over the years didn't fit together very well. Six years worth of a math and account degree with his pick of Fortune 500 companies to work for only to end up as a professional athlete for two weeks before deciding to enter the FBI after fully recovering from the supposed injury that ruined his baseball career wasn't exactly a clear picture of Peter's life choices. Neal had always felt there was some missing piece that had pushed Peter into the FBI and probably his 'by the book' attitude as well.

Neal recalled having asked Peter why he hadn't gone into the private sector where he probably would have made a fortune and Peter had instantly deflected with a story about how he wouldn't have met Elizabeth if he hadn't joined the FBI. Although that was true, it didn't explain why he made the decision in the first place. He wouldn't have had any way of knowing he was going to meet his future wife the day he signed up for the Academy. Trying to decide if Frost was playing with him or not Neal shrugged his shoulder with a slight wince as it started to ache with an all too familiar pain.

"Neal?" Frost asked concerned. "Your shoulder doesn't still bother you, does it?"

"No." Neal lied.

"If you need a doctor or a psychiatrist I can…"

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

"If you don't want to do this, that's fine, I understand." Frost closed the file and put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I knew it was a little too soon, but I thought you were the best person to come to with this and I had to act fast. This painting is hanging in a private residence of a family man and the last time I hired 'outside talent' to steal something for me three innocent people ended up dead. I didn't mean to pressure you into something you're not ready for. I'm sorry."

"Frost…"

"I came to you because I can know I can trust you." Frost continued. "However I can see that you're not ready to trust me yet."

"I want to, I really do, but my gut is telling that I shouldn't."

"Your gut? Man, you went native so much faster than I thought you would." Frost smiled warmly. "My boss is going to kill me. Oh well, like I said I never really wanted to work with you because of your sticky fingers. I'm sure Peter is proud of you and in a way I am too. How about dessert?"

"Dessert?"

"Yeah, this place as a mocha chocolate cake that is literally award winning."

Frost motioned for the waitress that was standing by the top of the stairs. She looked in his direction and he simply held two fingers up, apparently knowing what he wanted she disappeared downstairs towards the kitchen.

"That's it?" Neal asked cautiously.

"They have a fairly decent cheesecake, but you basically being a New Yorker and all I wouldn't think that DC cheesecake would be up to your standards."

"No, I mean that's it about the painting?"

"That's it. I'm not going to try and force or blackmail you into doing this. I could, but I don't see how that would benefit either one of us. You are always free to turn me down, it's simply up to me to find something you're more interested in." Frost said confidently. "Plus, oddly enough there is a huge amount of paperwork involved in making someone disappear into a secret government prison so I'd rather not go that route."

"So what are you going to do about the painting?"

"I'll think of something." Frost shrugged. "I always do."

"You could warn the owner, if they knew they were a target…"

"Someone is going to steal that painting, Neal, once it's on the Ivory List for this kind of price it's as good as gone. Warning the owner will just make matters worse. The more security gets put around it the higher it will drive the price for it, and the greater the chance that someone will get hurt." Frost explained. "My goal isn't to prevent a single crime, Neal, my goal to prevent wide spread bloodshed."

Neal took a breath to say more but Frost suddenly stiffened slightly and shook his head. Neal glanced back over his shoulder and noticed that the waitress was returning with their dessert order that Neal had absolutely no interest in. Neal was confident that the waitress was someone Frost trusted considering how well they silently communicated with one another, but he could understand Frost still wanting to use some discretion.

The waitress came and went leaving behind the rich dessert that Frost attacked with gusto. Frost had closed the file but he hadn't put it away. After a moment Neal reached over and pulled the file closer and opened it. He knew he should just leave but he felt he needed to at least look at what Frost wanted before sticking to his refusal. It was very rare for an item on the Ivory List to be part of a private collection, usually it was reserved for items in museums and galleries that weren't available for purchase. According to the file the painting had originally cost three hundred thousand, but the job for obtaining it was set at five million. Usually there were layers between buyers and sellers on t he Ivory List to protect both, however the buyer Frost was interested had tipped his hand by trying to offer to buy the painting from Bashiri before hand without success. The CFO who owned it was certainly doing well for himself, he lived in a large mansions on the outskirts of Baltimore with some impressive security, he probably liked the painting more than he needed the money.

Looking through the information what caught Neal's attention the most was the fact that Mr. Bashiri had a wife and three younger children. If his Pirhashemi painting really was on the Ivory List they might end up either injured in a careless break in or worse yet purposefully taken to be held as ransom in return for the art. Even the super wealthy couldn't just fill a duffel bag with five million in cash for ransom without drawing a massive amount of attention, but something as easy as a painting could be easily and even instantly handed over without involving police. With the bounty placed on this painting Frost was right it was only a matter of time, and probably not long, before someone invaded the Bashiri home and the risk of the smash and grab becoming violent was high.

"I'll do it." Neal sighed in defeat.

"Neal, you don't ha…"

"Never come to me with another Ivory List case or anything similar. Understood? I will help you recover art that's been lost, but don't ask me to just be a common thief again." Neal said firmly. "It isn't who I am anymore. Is that clear?"

"Five by five, Agent Caffrey."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Neal?"

"Yes?"

"Something on your mind?"

"I didn't say anything."

"That's what lead me to the question." Peter said as he kept an eye on the DC traffic that he was navigating. "You're never this quiet, particularly not when we're driving somewhere. You haven't said a word since we got in the car."

"We've barely made it five miles."

"So?"

"So is twenty minutes of silence really all it takes to make you worry?"

"About you? Absolutely." Peter confirmed. "Five minutes of silence is a rare treat when I'm with you, ten and I start to get uncomfortable, fifteen goes by and I'm outright suspicious, twenty gives me confirmation something is wrong."

"You analyze me way too much, Peter. I'm not sure it's healthy."

"It's definitely not healthy, but it's become second nature over the years."

"I have kind of forced you to always be on your toes around me," Neal smiled mischievously "but you should consider it a service."

"A service?"

"Hypervigilance makes you a better Agent."

"You were constantly getting into trouble to keep my Agent skills from getting rusty?" Peter asked doubtfully.

"Exactly."

"Thanks." Peter replied drily.

"You're welcome."

Peter smiled as Neal chuckled, but he still remained concerned. Having been called out for being quiet Neal now started telling Peter all about the Nazca skulls and the small museum/art gallery that they had been taken from that that they were currently driving towards. Neal explained that although the Nazca were most well known for their practice of elongating their skulls by placing boards and bindings on the heads of their babies they also had a general fascination with skulls and heads in general. Many skulls and mummified heads with cords protruding from holes drilled in the foreheads that were keeps as trophies had been found by archeologists in the region. They also performed trephination, drilling holes into the skulls of the living, and from evidence of healing on some of the skull it was clear that some of the victims actually survived the process.

As encouraging a sign as it was for Neal to be invested in their current case and to have clearly researched it Peter got the sense that Neal was hiding something. His willingness to launch into a detailed lecture on a tangential topic rather than talking about what had kept him preoccupied before was just another kind of silence. Peter had attempted to start a more meaningful conversation but Neal was simply too good at steering any discussion where he wanted it to go. He was like a skilled matador gracefully stepping to the side of a charging bull, which could be very entertaining to watch, unless you were the bull, in that case it just became frustrating.

Letting it go for now Peter just allowed Neal to continue the archeology lesson. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to pry or trick the truth out of Neal any more, but he realized that he couldn't reasonably expect Neal to have had a complete change in personality just because he went through the Academy. Having a new thought Peter suddenly hoped that Neal simply didn't want to share what was bothering him rather than being forced to keep quiet by Frost. Peter had spent about an hour sorting things out with the West Coast Agent when he'd been pulled back into the office last night, but he still had a suspicion that it had really been Frost looking to corner Neal alone.

"Stealing ancient ritualistic deformed skulls, sounds like bad ju-ju to me." Neal wrapped up his one sided conversation by commenting on the crime itself. "There are some things that shouldn't be stolen, human remains are at the top of that list."

"Some would argue that the fact that they were taken from Peru and placed in a museum in the first place was an act of theft."

"Now there's a thought. Particularly since this is technically a gallery with a small private run museum kind of mixed in." Neal noted. "Has anyone considered the idea that the skulls might be on their way back to Peru?"

"You might want to ask the curator if there have been any protests or threats lately."

"That's right, I'm not going to get the 'let me do the talking' speech any more."

"That speech never worked anyway." Peter shrugged.

"True."

Arriving at the off beat museum Peter took advantage of his federal plates to park on the street despite the multitude of signs forbidding it. Peter had not expected driving around DC to be more difficult than New York. The capitol city had a sophisticated public transit system but it didn't seem to keep people from owning cars in quite the same way that it did with New Yorkers. The streets themselves were not laid out on a grid either and had a multitude of one-ways that complicated navigation.

The small modern design gallery was nestled in between a high end jewelry store and a showcase store for kitchen remodeling. The first floor of the gallery held glass display cases scattered around that protected random artifacts from different regions of the world. The walls held art both old and new from locals to the regions represented by the glass cases. The idea behind the non profit gallery was a kind of global charitable organization that helped fund various causes. The owner traveled the world buying native art which provided a primary source of income for the artist, then once the work sold in the gallery the profits were then channeled to a charity that worked in that region to help the population as a whole.

Peter's training in White Collar instantly came up with about a dozen ways the gallery could be financially preying on both the artists and the people who were paying what was mostly likely highly inflated prices for street art. As much as he wanted to believe in the good that non-profit organizations could do he'd seen them used as fronts too many times to blindly trust in their altruism. However he wasn't here to investigate the business model or their fiances. A man about Neal's age with wild red hair wearing torn jeans, a rough looking orange boat neck shirt, and a clay beaded necklace approached them.

"Good morning, Gentlemen, can I help you with something or are you just looking around? There's no admission fee for the museum portion, although donations are accepted, anything that is for sale has a price near it. All proceeds go to various charities, this month's featured charity is Heifer International, they provide live stock for impoverished families to help them with a sustainable source of food and income. This floor is mostly African art, upstairs…"

"We're looking for the owner." Peter interrupted.

"That's me." The redhead smiled brightly. "Joshua Fitz."

"FBI," Peter announced displayed his badge for Fitz in a well practiced move "Special Agent Peter Burke, this is my partner Agent Neal Caffrey."

Peter looked to Neal who just looked back at him for a second before he suddenly realized that Peter was waiting for him to show his own ID. Neal was used to just standing by while introductions were made. This was the first time he was being introduced as an Agent rather than a consultant. Smiling brightly Neal reached into his inner breast pocket and proudly flashed his badge for Fitz.

"FBI, wow, I have to say I was not expecting you guys to get involved in this." Fitz admitted.

"We're from the Art Crime division." Neal offered.

"I figured that, I'm just surprised this wasn't kept off your desk. I mean I already told the cops who did it."

"Really?" Neal asked confused. "I read the report there wasn't any mention that there was a suspect."

"Now that part doesn't surprise me." Fitz sighed. "The Bone Baron has friends in high places, people who donate large amounts of money to local law."

"The 'Bone Baron'?" Peter questioned.

"James Arvid, he has the largest collection of human bone on the Eastern Seaboard outside of the Mutter Museum."

"Do you have any evidence against this 'Bone Baron'?"

"Evidence…uh…no."

"That's why they kept his name out of the report." Neal guessed. "Anyone who's friends with law enforcement isn't going to end up in an official report on just hearsay."

"It's not just hearsay, trust me he has a ton of illegal human remains locked up in that terror vault his calls a house."

"You seem pretty against displaying human remains for someone who bought two skulls of his own." Peter pointed out.

"I didn't buy them, they were a gift from my last trip to the Nazca Province in Peru after helping with an irrigation issue." Fitz corrected. "All of the artifacts that I display as part of my gallery are gifts and no gift is ever for sale. Something that I explained to Arvid on three separate occasions."

"What kind of money was he offering?" Neal asked.

"Two hundred thousand for just one of them, and then he offered five when I said 'no' the second time."

"Half a million dollars," Peter said impressed "that's a serious offer."

"Some things aren't for sale at any price."

"You don't have the best security here." Neal noted as he looked around. "The angles on your cameras have way too many blind spots."

"The art I have isn't very valuable on the black market, the work is beautiful but the artists are all unknowns. The artifacts I have aren't really something that thieves would target mostly being just pottery and tools. The skulls were the only things I had that had of any real monetary value, and even then only something you could sell to a very specific crowd. I've never really had to worry about security. I can show you what I did catch on tape."

Fitz lead Neal and Peter back into his office and pulled up the digital surveillance from the night in question. The footage wasn't particularly useful, whoever it was knew where the cameras were and never showed his face despite the fact that it wouldn't have matter either way since he had a ski mask pulled over his hair and features. Having come in through the back door of the gallery they went directly to the case with the skulls on the second floor without any hesitation. Picking the lock on the case had taken mere minutes and after carefully packing up the oddly shaped skulls the man was gone.

"Do you keep the cameras on during the day?" Neal asked.

"Yes, but I don't really see how that helps."

"Whoever this was cased you first, if you can give us a copy of the footage from the past few weeks we'll probably find someone who is looking at cameras not art."

Fitz hunted down a small USB drive and downloaded two weeks worth of footage onto it, any footage older than that was automatically erased from the harddrive if it wasn't purposefully saved. Neal thanked Fitz and told him that they would keep in touch. Peter tapped on his own breast pocket to remind Neal to give Fitz a business card. Neal reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the cards that Peter printed and waiting for him the week before he graduated. Neal gave the card a quick glance with a smile before handing it over to Fritz.

Returning to the car Peter was relieved to see that Neal's general mood was a lot brighter than during their ride over. Getting into the car Neal pulled out the USB drive Fitz had given him and looked it over as if the drive itself could tell him something about the case before he slipped it back in his pocket.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's weird to have business cards, I've never had business cards…at least not with my actual name and contact information on them."

"You did well. Not that I'm surprised, this isn't exactly our first time out in the field together."

"Far from it, but it's different now."

"Yes it is." Peter agreed. "So what's our next move?"

"Are you making me lead on this?"

"Of course."

"In that case I want to look into this Bone Baron even if he isn't our guy."

"Sounds like a good job for tomorrow." Peter said. "Are you coming over for dinner tonight?"

Neal's improved mood instantly vanished. Peter waited a moment as Neal took a breath to say something several times. Eventually just settling into an uncomfortable silence Neal reached up and pressed his hand against his shoulder.

"Neal?"

"Sorry, Peter, I can't tonight."

"Plans?"

"Something like that." Neal replied vaguely.

"Frost?"

Neal just nodded.

"Do I want to know?"

"...I don't think you do."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"Well…it was a good thought."

Having spent the past few hours sifting through the video surveillance footage Neal hadn't found anyone that had looked like they were casing the place. Whoever it had been had clearly been in the gallery before considering how they knew exactly where to go and where the cameras were. At the same time if they had been there in the past two weeks they didn't appear any different than any other guest. Which either meant: they were good, they cased it further back than two weeks ago, or they had gotten the information another way. Neal had noticed one thing wading through the two weeks worth of footage and that was the fact that Fitz hadn't made a single sale in that time.

Considering all the world travel Fitz did in the name of his charity company the over head of his non-profit had to be extraordinarily high. The half a million dollars that the Bone Baron had offered him had to have been tempting. Unless Fitz had some other source of cash that he was hiding he was probably in need of money to keep his gallery afloat. If he was in bad financial straights it would suggest an inside job. Even though the physical height and weight of the man in the mask didn't fit Fitz's description it wouldn't have been difficult to find someone willing to break in particularly with a cut of half a million on the table.

Neal stared sightlessly at the footage that had started to replay while he thought back over his interview with Fitz today. If he had been lying he'd been good at it, he hadn't come across as nervous at all although he had been quick to point them in another direction. Neal was brought out of his thoughts by a light knock at his open office door. Looking up Neal smiled at Peter who was standing in the entrance way. Peter had been good about not to pressing for more information on Neal's plans tonight with Frost on the ride back to the office, but Neal could see how hard it was for him not to ask more questions. Even now he took a breath to say something but then visibly thought better of it.

Neal had thought about just lying when Peter had first invited him over tonight and telling him that Vivian had canceled her flight and wanted to dinner among other things knowing that Peter would have instantly lose all curiosity for any details, but he was tired of vicious cycle of keeping secrets and then having to ask for forgiveness when Peter found out later. At least this way Peter knew he could have the truth if he just asked for it. Looking as though he was seriously contemplating asking for more details and yet clearly not wanting them Peter remained standing in the door way in indecision.

"You really don't need permission to enter my office Peter." Neal offered to break the new found tension between them. "I never knocked on your door."

"I know, it was annoying."

"Which was actually what I was going for at the time," Neal smiled "so point taken."

"Find anything good on the video?" Peter asked as he finally stepped up to Neal's desk.

"No." Neal sighed. "I'm starting to seriously suspect Fitz had the skulls stolen to sell to Arvid."

"Why bother? Why involve not only a middleman but also law enforcement, when it would have been completely legal to just sell them to Arvid in the first place. Seems needlessly risky."

"Half a million is worth taking risks over. I think Fitz might being trying to have his cake and eat it too. He has a public image as a 'good guy', the only real reason anyone would buy the high price no name art he has is to feel like they are helping a cause. If he privately sells one of his gifts his image would take a hit even if he did put the money right back into charity. This way he gets to sell the skulls, keep the money under the table, avoiding a serious amount of taxes, and then when the FBI finds Arvid with the stolen skulls he would get them back. The perfect crime."

"Perfect?" Peter questioned doubtfully.

"Well, maybe not 'perfect', but certainly not the worst idea."

"I'm not quick to trust these world hopping non-profit types, but we don't have anything to tie Fitz to this."

"I don't suppose we can get a warrant for Fitz's financials?"

"Not without at least a hint of evidence that he's doing something wrong. As it stands Fitz is the victim here."

"It's a shame I don't know any of the thieves for hire in this area, if someone tried to pull this same trick in New York I'd have a name by the end of the day." Neal paused on that thought before the kind of smile that made Peter nervous lit up his face. "You know what I need?"

"No, don't even thi…"

"I need a CI." Neal finished despite Peter's protests.

"You want a CI you have to catch one first, trust me it's not easy."

"How hard could it be?" Neal teased "You did it."

"You do realize that's more of an insult to you than me, right?"

"I realize it as I was saying it, but it was too late to turn back." Neal admitted. "In any case our best lead is still this 'Bone Baron'."

"We'll go talk to him tomorrow. I looked into him while you were going through the video. He's very open and proud of his collection, he has an extensive website devoted to it."

"Creepy."

"Very." Peter agreed. "His collection is close to fifteen million dollars in value."

"Doesn't really sound like he would need to steal. If he wanted one of these skulls he could fly to Peru and buy one himself."

"And according to his web site he already has one in his collection, so it's not like it's the 'finale piece' he needs to complete his collection."

"Considering how much he likes to show off he might not even want a bone that he couldn't show off."

"He's still worth talking to."

"Anyone willing to spend millions of dollars on dead things has to have fascinating stories and is worth talking to guilty or not."

"We're going to have to agree to disagree on that one."

Neal smiled at the look of disgust on Peter's face at the prospect of having to step into Arvid's living mausoleum. Without any other leads to explore right now the conversation died off momentarily. The silence that settled over them had the same uncomfortable feel to it as when Peter first stepped into the office and Neal wasn't sure how to best fix it. Peter glanced behind himself at the clock on the wall although Neal suspected that Peter had already known it was close to five when he'd left his own office to come talk. Neal knew that Elizabeth had been enjoying having her husband come home at a more regular time since their move to Washington and she probably hadn't been happy that Peter had ended up working late on Neal's first day, even if it wasn't his fault. At least Neal hoped it hadn't been his fault and that Frost had been telling the truth about not having anything to do with Peter getting called back in.

"You should go home." Neal offered. "I was just about to wrap up for the day myself."

"Your day here." Peter clarified.

"Frost is picking me up in about an hour." Neal confirmed. "I need to stop by my apartment first."

Peter didn't seem to know how to react to Neal's open answer. Neal was having second thoughts again about deciding not to lie about his meeting with Frost tonight. Five months ago Peter had somewhat begrudgingly agreed to the idea of turning a blind eye on Neal's sanctioned criminal activity, but now that it was actually happening he was having a hard time with it. It was easy to make a deal with the Devil, it was harder to pay up when the time came. Neal furrowed his brow at his last thought as he realized that he didn't really see Frost as a devil. Even though he hadn't been happy with the petty theft assignment Neal still felt that it was a small price to pay for the new chance and life he'd been given. At the same time he could understand where it would feel like a much steeper cost to Peter since his part in this went heavily against his strong ethical code. Having gotten lost in thought Neal looked up when Peter cleared his throat as though he was going to say something but then didn't follow through.

"Peter?"

"Do you…" Peter hesitated, needing to take a deep breath before continuing. "Do you need back up?"

"Back up?" Neal repeated surprised. "Peter, are you offering to help me on a hei…"

"No." Peter interrupted firmly. "No, nothing like that. However I am offering to watch your back."

"Thank you, but I'll be okay." Neal declined the offer. "Frost and Bryant will be there for the off chance that something goes wrong. Besides it's an easy job, nothing I haven't done before."

"Amazingly enough that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I know it doesn't. I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry," Peter replied seriously "I just want you to be safe."

"I will be. Frost has no reason to hurt me or to put me in any true danger." Neal assured. "Even if I'm just an asset, I've been a very expensive one. He'll protect me, to earn more on his investment if nothing else."

"In other words he'll protect you until you're more trouble than you're worth."

"It doesn't sound good when you put it that way...I'm a lot of trouble."

"Yes, you are."

"I hope I've been worth it."

"I wouldn't have come this far with you if you weren't."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Good night, Neal. Don't do anything…unsanctioned."

"I won't, I promise."

Neal smiled reassuringly at Peter as he continued to hesitate to leave. Eventually sighing quietly in defeat Peter nodded slightly as he accepted the fact that he had to let Neal go. Neal sat at his desk staring at the empty door frame for a moment, giving Peter time to leave the building so that they wouldn't end up on the elevator together and just invite either an awkward silence between them or another pointless discussion about Frost and his intentions. Reaching out across his desk Neal turned the small brass placard that sat on the edge around so that he could read it. At the moment the block lettering read 'Agent Neal Caffrey' in another two years he'd be promoted from probationary Agent to Special Agent.

"Assuming I make it that long."

Neal was still getting used to seeing the title 'Agent' in front of his name. In a lot of way it still just felt like another alias, particularly since he was preparing to take the title off for the evening. Neal was determined to live up to the new responsibility as best he could, but he knew he'd never be able to wear the persona in the same way that Peter did. It wasn't just a job for him, it was a lifestyle, being an Agent wasn't something that Peter could turn on and off since it was his identity. Having never really felt like he'd ever known who he was Neal had always envied Peter's strong sense of self.

Neal had had too many identities, both in name and in spirit, to ever relate to any one of them strongly enough to consider them to be who he was. Even now as much as he wanted to be 'Agent Caffrey' Neal couldn't help but feel excited about tonight's activities. He couldn't deny that he was already experiencing the start of the adrenaline high that came along with a well executed heist that couldn't be matched by anything he'd ever done with the FBI. Catching criminals was gratifying, but there was still an allure to being one that deep down Neal couldn't seem to resist.

"And Frost knows it…"

Shaking off the dark thought that Frost was just using him as a thief for hire Neal focused on the fact that his job tonight was not to steal from the Bashiri family, but to protect them. Thinking of his job with Frost as being part of his new law-man identity rather than a regression into his old criminal behavior helped Neal reconcile the fact that he really wasn't as against this assignment as he wanted to be. As much as he had been working lately to put his past behind him Neal still found that when he was honest with himself he still missed certain aspects of it.

Deciding that he had waited long enough for Peter to have made it out of the building Neal got to his feet and slipped on his jacket to leave. He made it to the door of his office before he realized that he had left his shoulder harness and weapon in his desk drawer. Although he had no intention of bringing it with him tonight Neal still needed to get into the habit of taking it home and keeping it in the safe in his apartment.

Putting on the heavy harness still felt unnatural, and he knew that going for the weapon wasn't going to be his first instinct when situations turned dangerous. Part of his Academy training had involved stressing the importance of not just carrying the gun but also being willing to use it while at the same time knowing when not to. The split second reaction time needed to make the right call was not something that could just be taught, it was mostly won through experience. A majority of his classmates had been cops or military and already had experience with being armed. Neal was a highly skilled marksman from his early years of trying to emulate his cop father, but once he had learned that his father wasn't the hero he'd thought he was Neal had gained an aversions to guns and he'd stopped carrying one long ago. Non-violence had eventually even become a hallmark of his criminal career that he was proud of. Peter used to be the one who had all the responsibility of keeping them safe when the need for force arose, but now Neal had to share that responsibility equally and be ready to kill if need be or else he was going to put them both at risk.

Thinking about how he needed to become more used to the idea of being armed Neal wondered if he should bring the weapon with him tonight. Frost might even be expecting him to do so. Along the short walk to his apartment Neal decided that he needed to consider himself off duty from the Bureau when he was Frost and therefore it didn't make sense to carry his FBI issue. He didn't want Frost thinking that he was willing or expecting to kill anyone during these assignments even if it was in self defense. There wasn't any need for violence during a well planed theft, and with civilians in the mix adding weapons just begged for mistakes to be made that couldn't be undone.

Arriving at his apartment Neal found a medium sized black cardboard box waiting for him just inside the door. Although understanding why he'd done it Neal rolled his eyes at the fact that Frost had obviously broken into his home despite their earlier discussion about privacy. The hotel wasn't open yet, but there were construction workers around so leaving the box outside his door wouldn't have really been smart. Neal picked the box up and brought it over to the island kitchen counter top to open it. Inside was a hand written note.

"'I wasn't sure you'd have anything to wear, hope it fits.'." Neal read. "'PS- sorry about the break in, it won't happen again.'."

Neal highly doubted that Frost meant the last statement but he did appreciate the acknowledgment that he was going to be irritated by the break in even if he didn't accept the apology. Opening the layer of white tissue paper that hid the contents of the box Neal pulled out a long sleeved black turtle neck shirt made of a stretchy material that had a slightly gritty feel to it. There was also a pair of black cargo pants that also had the same rough texture on the outside. The outfit was completed by a pair of thin black gloves with the same qualities as the shirt and a pair of lightweight black all terrain boots.

Neal suspected that the material was specifically designed to remain black when looked at through near infra red camera or night vision binocular equipment. Normal black dye clothing actually showed up as a bright white when viewed with near infra red and made anyone wearing it stick out like a sore thumb even if they were perfectly hidden in the dark from the naked eye. Neal realized that the material might even be designed to help protect the wearer from any Image Intensification technology as well seeing as Frost would have access to cutting edge technology.

Getting ready for a long night Neal took a quick shower before putting on the high tech outfit that Frost had provided him with. The shirt was an easy fit being stretchy, but considering the fact that the pants fit just as well as anything he'd had hand tailored and the gloves fit like he'd simply dipped his hands in a liquid rather than pulled on fabric Neal had to assume that at some point Frost had stolen his measurements from somewhere. Trying not to think about it too much Neal pulled off the gloves having just wanted to try them for size and placed them in one of the cargo pockets only to discover a small case was already in the pocket. Pulling out the gritty cloth case Neal unrolled it to discover a full set of flat black lock picking tools along with a black bladed folding tactical knife. Neal had never really thought about the fact that his shiny silver colored picks easily glinted in low light, but seeing the dull set he realized what a good idea it was to cut down on the visibility.

After putting the picks back in his pocket and pulling his hands through his damp hair to slick it back Neal glanced up at himself in the mirror. He felt he looked more equipt to be breaking into a high security military facility than a private home, but there really was no such things as being over prepared for an illegal activity. Heading back into the living room and putting on the shoes that Frost had provided Neal wasn't surprised to find that they not only fit perfectly but also were amazingly comfortable.

Picking his cell phone up off the counter Neal glanced at the time, it was a few minutes before seven which was when Frost was going to pick him up. Slipping the phone into one of his multiple pockets Neal looked around to make sure that he was ready. He spotted his shoulder harness hanging over the back of one of the high chairs that was in front of the island counter. He had draped it there along with his jacket when he'd headed off for a quick shower. He chastised himself for not putting it away first thing and reminded himself to do better next time.

Taking the gun out of the holster Neal stepped up to a gold framed replica of Gismonda by Alphonse Mucha. Swinging the frame towards himself on a hidden hinge revealed the wall safe that was tucked behind it. Tapping in a combination and placing his palm against the reader opened the safe. There was a steel case with foam lining inside the safe that he placed the gun in after double checking to make sure the safety was on. Neal closed the safe door and had just put the painting back when his phone vibrated to alert him to an incoming text. Pulling the phone out Neal found that it was exactly seven.

'Good to go?'

Reading Frost's text Neal was about to reply that he was when he decided that he needed to do one last thing first. Going back to the counter Neal fished his badge out of his jacket and brought it over to the Gismonda painting. Unlocking the safe again Neal flipped open the thin badge and stared at the brass FBI shield inside. Neal became lost in a memory from about a year after he'd started working with Peter when he'd been idly playing with an empty FBI coffee mug and noticed the three words on a banner on the FBI seal. __

_'Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity.' Neal read._

_'It's the FBI's motto.' Peter explained._

_'Very clever, a little cutesy, but clever.' Neal teased. 'Did you guys choose the motto based solely on the way they fit in with the FBI abbreviation?'_

_'Actually, yes. The motto was coined three years after the Bureau named itself.' Peter confirmed. 'However, they are still the best three words to live by, Neal, and you're *so* close.'_

_'What?'_

_'Deny it all you want, but I know you're loyal, and you're certainly no coward…all you have to do is work on your honesty and you can finally drop the con and be a man. Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity, it's a combination anyone can be proud of.'  
_  
"Sorry, Peter." Back in the present Neal apologized to his absent partner. "Integrity will have to wait another night."

Closing the leather wallet Neal placed his badge in the safe and shut the door to seal it inside.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Damn, Dog." Frost chuckled. "You are looking sharp, Neal."

"Do they just not have sexual harassment training at the CIA?"

"Hey, that get up is the most expensive thing you've ever worn by a long shot, and yes I am aware that at one point you wore a 50 thousand dollar Kiton tux to a Royal wedding that you weren't invited to."

"How can you possibly know that?"

"I'm in the CIA, Neal, I know everything."

"Seriously, Frost, how…"

"Royal weddings in Slavic countries pique the CIA's interests and you tend to stand out in a crowd, doubly so when you're better dressed than the groom. You were looked into by Agents there to make sure you weren't a threat and luckily they deemed you harmless."

"Harmless?"

"I mean they knew you'd come to steal something and by the end of the night you'd taken off with the sizable diamond that the Duchess had been wearing, but still harmless as far as they were concerned."

"You could have prevented that. You could have arrested me on sight, I was on the run from the FBI at the time."

"Not our problem." Frost chuckled. "You were not on the CIA radar at the time, that was long before the Special Recovery Operation had been put together. The CIA had bigger fish to fry that night."

"Doing what?"

"I don't actually know, I had nothing to do with the mission." Frost admitted. "I was still a Ranger in the Army, it was before my CIA paramilitary career let alone my new role, and even now my clearance only gave me access to the part of the file that said you were there and that you took that shiny rock." Frost said casually before giving Neal a concerned look. "I'm sorry, I'm doing that thing where I'm not respecting your privacy again, aren't I?"

"It's just a little unnerving to have someone know so much about me and my…past."

"I don't hold any of it against you if that helps."

"It does actually." Neal replied honestly.

"Good." Frost smiled brightly, feeling he'd been forgiven. "I know that you're not exactly proud of who you were, Neal, but trust me you can be proud of who you are now. We're all good guys here, even if we don't play by the rules. With that in mind…are you still interested in helping out tonight or have you changed your mind?"

"No, I haven't change my mind."

"Then perhaps you can actually get in the car?" Frost asked. "We are starting to look suspicious."

"Right."

Neal had opened the passenger side of Frost's black SUV but hadn't actually taken the step to get inside. Getting in Neal closed the door and pulled his seat belt on. Frost waited another short moment to make sure that his passenger really was willing before pulling away from the curb. Neal noticed that Frost hadn't even seemed to check to make sure that it was safe to pull out into traffic before doing so.

"Should you be driving with your…uh…"

"My glass eye?" Frost finished for him. "It's fine, the driver's side has all sorts of sensors and indicators built into it to let me know if anyone's in my substantial blind spot."

As if to prove Frost's point the display on the dashboard flashed as a car passed on their left. Hearing a gentle snoring sound Neal looked over his shoulder, he hadn't even noticed that Bryant was sprawled out in the back seat, he blended in perfectly with the black leather seating in his clothing that matched Neal's perfectly. With his eyes slightly open Bryant looked more passed out than simply sleeping.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine." Frost assured. "Bryant can sleep anywhere, anytime, it's like a super power."

"That does sound like a useful skill."

"As long as I'm on watch he never misses a chance to close his eyes. It's actually kind of annoying on road trips, but he earns the sleep by always being ready at a moment's notice to spring into action."

Neal looked back at Bryant again finding that the man's peaceful slumber put his own nervous stomach at ease. If tonight were anything other than the simple heist job that it had been advertised as Neal doubted that Bryant would be comfortable with just taking a nap on their way there. Frost was just as calm as he navigated them through the twisting and confusing roads of DC towards the highway. It would take about two hours for them to reach the target on the north side just out of Baltimore near the Loch Raven Reservoir where Bashiri had his mansion home out in the woods. The three story modern design home was set in the middle of a three acre clearing at the end of a half mile driveway.

Although Neal had usually found Frost to be fairly chatty he was being quiet as they drove North. Neal wasn't sure if it was to keep from waking Bryant or if it was because so far all of his recent conversations with him had all gone down hill rather quickly. Noticing that Bryant seemed to sleep fairly heavily Neal decided that Frost had decided that not talking was just the safer option right now.

Neal allowed the silence for about an hour, however there was topic of conversation that had been bothering Neal since his last talk with Frost that was increasingly on his mind now. The next day Neal had been seriously tempted to ask Peter about Ethan to see if Frost had just slipped a fictitious person into the conversation to create tension between himself and Peter or if there really was an Ethan in Peter's past. In the end the risk of upsetting Peter not only with a possibly painful memory but also with the fact that Frost knew about it Neal had kept it to himself. Now that he was with Frost again his curiosity was getting the better of him again.

"Who is Ethan?" Neal asked suddenly.

"Nope." Frost shook his head. "Just forget that name."

"You know I can't."

"You're such a hypocrite, Neal." Frost said bluntly. "You want me to respect your privacy, but you don't seem as interested in respecting Peter's."

Neal wanted to retorted, but he realized that Frost did have a point. Neal was about to apologize when Bryant suddenly whimpered. Neal looked back over shoulder at Bryant who was twitching slightly as his eyes tracked back and forth through half open lids in REM. Curling his lip Bryant growled a few incoherent words under his breath.

"He always has nightmares." Frost said.

"Should I wake him?" Neal asked as he turned around in his seat slightly so he could reach over it.

"No, don't touch him, he'll punch you in the face if you startle him." Frost warned wrinkling his nose showing that he was speaking from experience. "He'll be okay. He tends to settle down after a few minutes of this."

"Carter…" Bryant muttered sounding desperate.

Neal recognized the name from when Frost had shared with Peter and him about the mission that only he and Bryant had survived. Neal wasn't surprised that Bryant had been left with nightmares and from the sympathetic look on Frost's face he was willing to bet that Bryant wasn't the only one who struggled with the memory at night.

"It was my team, my responsibility to keep them safe…but Bryant was on point when it happened." Frost said quietly as he glanced up into the rear view mirror at his restless partner. "Being on point means being on constant alert to keep not just yourself from getting shot but to make sure you don't lead the others into a trap."

"Bryant can't think that you blame him for what happened."

"I wish he thought I blamed him, then I could forgive him and maybe he could get past it. However, I don't blame him, I never have, and he knows it. Some traps are set too well to avoid and that was one of them."

"But he still blames himself."

"He does. I have given up trying to tell him that none of us would have done any better or even any differently that day if we'd been in his position." Frost sighed. "He doesn't even remember the actual blast or minutes leading up to it, but he insists that he missed something that lead to disaster."

In the back seat Bryant started panting heavily for breath, grinding his teeth he truly appeared to be in pain. Neal could see Frost debating on if he should wait for the nightmare to pass or if his friend needed help. When Bryant whimpered in fear rather than pain Frost purse his lips and whistled twice in rapid succession. Neal was a surprised that the noise woke Bryant even though the whistle hadn't been much louder than their talking. Bryant jerked awake ready for a fight with every muscle pulled tight and his eyes dilated wide.

"All clear." Frost assured.

"Roger that." Bryant acknowledged automatically as he instantly relaxed.

"You've got about forty-five minutes til go time."

"Sounds good."

As quickly as he had woken Bryant settled back in and fell asleep again, this time remaining peaceful. There was no denying that Bryant trusted Frost with his life. Although as much as Bryant trusted Frost Neal knew that was still no guarantee that he could do the same. Bryant had signed up to work with him, Neal had been targeted to join the team with little other options. The closer they drew to their destination the more Neal felt like he was just another expensive piece of equipment that the well trained pair had brought along for the mission at hand. At the same time he couldn't help be somewhat flattered by the fact that they had chosen him, they clearly only used the best of the best when it came to their equipment. He also couldn't deny that he had been a little annoyed to hear that the CIA had deemed him 'harmless' all those years ago out of pure professional criminal pride.

By the time they arrived on the far side of the woods that the mansion lay on Neal was having a hard time sitting still from a combination of excited and nervous energy from his conflicting feelings. Taking a deep breath he released it slowly to slow his racing heart and help him focus. It had been half a year since he'd done anything like this and he had almost forgotten the euphoric feeling that came along with the danger of being caught, although he did recall that it didn't even compare to the rush of actually getting away in the end.

"Excited?" Frost asked knowingly.

"A little." Neal admitted.

"Nothing wrong with enjoying a little 'mission high'."

"Might as well since I'm here."

"That's the spirit." Frost beamed. "This is going to be fun, it's been a while since I've officially been in the field myself. There really is nothing like it, is there?"

Realizing that Frost had caught him in a good mood Neal didn't reply, he didn't want to give Frost the wrong idea about asking him to do this kind of thing in the future. Not minding not getting an answer Frost turned in his seat he woke Bryant up with the same quick double whistle and asked him to pass over a cylindrical case with a strap on it which he offered to Neal.

Taking the case for the painting Neal got out of the car and looked around at the dark woods. With only a sliver of a moon out the trees cast heavy shadows on everything. Neal knew from the file that Frost had given him at the Tavern that the house was just over a half a mile to the North through the woods. The lonely dirt road that they had parked on was mostly used for access to the trails that ran through the State Park that was off to the South.

Neal didn't dare think about taking the painting as his 'one last heist' knowing that that would just invite bad luck. Instead he focused on it being his first act with the CIA in hopes of courting some beginners luck. Having enough skill to over come luck either good or bad Neal slung the painting case on his back and stepped towards the tree line.

"Where are you going?" Frost called out. "Hold your horses there, Neal."

Neal turned around and found that Frost and Bryant were digging around in the back of the SUV as they collected up a few items including a heavy duty set of night vision binoculars. Bryant strapped on a heavy utility type belt with a leg holster attachment for carrying a handgun that he took a moment to check. Frost pulled out a telescoping dull black hiking stick that he extended and used it to help with his limp as he caught up with Neal.

"What are you doing?" Neal asked.

"What do you mean? We're coming with you."

"What?"

"You didn't think I was going to make you do this without back up did you?"

"As a matter of fact I did."

"No wonder you don't trust me, thinking that I was just going to sit in my car while you did my dirty work. I'd hate me too." Frost said seriously as Bryant stepped up and joined them. "Neal when it comes to working with Bryant and I there are two things you can always count on. I hope the first one is fairly obvious by now seeing as I'm living proof of it."

"No man gets left behind." Bryant provided brightly as he slung his arm over Frost's shoulders.

"Damn straight." Frost said proudly.

"And the other?" Neal asked.

"No man goes alone."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Alright," Frost nodded "let's do this."

"Oorah." Bryant crowed quietly.

"Ugh, Jarheads." Frost muttered in mock disgust.

"Bite me, Ranger Rick."

"Bring it, Spook."

"Spook? Now there's the pot calling the kettle…"

"Black?" Frost provided indignantly.

"Really? The race card?" Bryant chuckled. "That's how you want to play this game?"

"Whatever it takes my Aryan friend."

"Are you two done?" Neal asked seriously.

"Sorry," Frost apologized "between recovering from injury and what basically boils down to a desk job it's been a good three years since I've been out in the field like this."

"About that," Neal glanced over at the house through the last ten yards of woods "I really do appreciate the back up, but I need you two to stay at the tree line. Okay?"

"It's your mission, Boss." Frost nodded. "Whatever you need from us, we're here. Even if it's just for another set of eyes."

"Well, one and a half sets at least." Bryant added.

"My point is," Frost turned to a more serious tone "we do everything on your call tonight, Neal, you're the expert here."

"Thank you. Home invasion are very tricky, particularly when there are children in the house"

"Unfortunately, since Bashiri works from home and with summer vacation just starting there simply isn't going be a good time any time soon where no one is home, another reason this particular Ivory List item caught our attention as being high risk for civilian causalities."

"Speaking of which, no guns allowed in the house." Neal said firmly. "Bryant, I know I can't expect you to go on an assignment unarmed anymore than I can expect it of Peter, but we're the 'bad guys' tonight and I absolutely will not allow any use of force against the Bashiri family no matter what happens, even if he fires at me first."

"Understood." Bryant nodded.

"Bashiri doesn't have a registered weapon, and I doubt he's the kind to have an illegal weapon for home protection." Frost assured. "He does have a dog though, Bryant has a tranquilizer…"

"No." Neal declined the offer. "I can handle the dog, in fact I need him."

"What?"

"Trust me. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Come back to the South side of the woods, you are really hard to spot once you're in the woods so you need to come back here. If things go really sideways then meet back at the car, but since this is our first time out together try not to let anything go sideways, okay?"

Neal nodded and after tightening the strap that held the cylindrical case to his back he stalked off through the last ten yards to the edge of the woods. Once he got there he paused having arranged with Frost to do a com check once he got some distance between them. Frost's voice was a lot quieter and clearer over the small ear piece than the ones used by the FBI. Just like Frost Neal was wearing a thin band around his neck under his high collared shirt that held a tiny microphone against his throat that only transmitted vibrations from speech. This not only allowed him to speak clearly to Frost in just a whisper but it also canceled out any distracting ambient noise and made it so he didn't have to speak into a wrist mounted microphone leaving his hands free. Neal made a note to ask Peter about getting the better com set up for their next field assignment.

With the communication working in both directions Neal stepped out into the exposed expanse of well maintained lawn. The approach to the house was not difficult in the nearly perfectly dark night. It was just past ten, but knowledge of the Bashiri household routine from the file Neal knew that they went to bed early. By moving in on the house in a relatively early hour rather than waiting till after midnight Neal was more likely to catch the adults of the house hold in a level of sleep where they would be somewhat difficult to wake but still oriented to their surroundings if they did, rather than risking waking them during one of the numerous REM peaks later in the night where if they were woken they would be frightened and disoriented.

Being snapped out of a dream state put people on high alert and they would be more likely to investigate a noise. If Neal made a mistake and woke someone earlier in their sleep patterned they wouldn't wake with the same heart pounding adrenaline high that came with being yanked out of a dream and there was a better chance that they would just ignore whatever woke them and roll over to go back to sleep. An out of place noise was a lot easier to dismiss when you didn't have adrenaline telling you that it was a threat as opposed to just the wind or the house settling. All in all if Neal was going to deal with a woken home owner he preferred to have one that was just curious about the source of a noise rather than one actively expecting danger.

Having studied the house plans that Frost had provided him with early Neal knew he needed to get to the third story of the house where Bashiri kept his home office where the painting he was targeting was hung on the wall. He also knew to approach the Southeast corner where the areas for the motion sensing lights intersected the least. For the last twenty feet to the house Neal got down on his belly and crawled towards the house since they had set up the motion sensors to not be triggered by any wildlife shorter in height than a coyote.

Frost had warned Neal about the house security system and that there were both opening and glass break alarms on all of the first story doors and windows. Frost had offered to have Bryant cut the house power, but Neal had assured him that wouldn't be necessary and if anything would just alert Bashiri that something was wrong. The silence that a power failure caused when it turned off the air conditioning and fans in the home could wake someone just as effectively as a noise.

Having looked over the surveillance photos Neal had discovered that there was one unlikely door that didn't have alarm trigger on it. Once he was within three feet of the house Neal could stand up again without worrying about the motion sensing lights as long as he stayed slightly ducked down and he made his way to the patio and the glass sliding doors. The patio held a large swimming pool close to the house that sparkled in the limited moonlight. On the far glass door was a special insert, the top half of which was a glass panel, but the bottom section was a thick hard acrylic flap that was held firmly in place by four steel bolts that slid into the sides of the tough plastic. The family dog wore a special collar that unlocked the clear lower panel when he stepped up to it.

Kneeling down next to the electronic dog door Neal fished a small silver whistle that he'd brought along. The high frequency whistle just made a hissing sound as far as Neal was concerned, but to a dog it was well within audible range. The whistle wasn't designed to cause pain, it was just a training whistle that would hopefully catch the dog's attention without alerting any of the humans. Neal blew the whistle four time in short succession and waited a moment. It wasn't long before a large chocolate lab came trotting into the front room to investigate the new sound.

Spotting Neal outside the glass the dog raced over towards the door with his tail wagging high. This was not a trick Neal would have tried with a German Shepherd or anything similar, however knowing the easy going and trusting nature of the Labrador Neal had been certain that he would get this reception. The Lab didn't even bark as he pushed his nose against the large dog door and pushed it open as his collar unlocked the bolts. Neal had counted on the wealthy family having well trained dog that would have been discouraged from barking since wildlife would often visit the wood surrounded lot and the owners wouldn't have wanted to hear about it every time a deer or a fox decided to step on the patio. The friendly Lab joined Neal out on the patio and Neal offered him a small piece of freeze dried beef liver that he had in a plastic pouch in one of his cargo pockets. The slightly over weight dog wolfed down the treat without a moments hesitation.

"Hey, Buddy." Neal greeted softly as he pet the dog. "I need you to do me a favor."

Having a found a new friend in Neal the Lab wagged enthusiastically. As much as people tended to think their dog would defend the home against a stranger Neal found that nine times out of ten that wasn't true, dogs had been bred and raised to be friendly to humans for thousands of years and for the most part it was easy to buy their loyalty with the right food. Neal lured the dog to put his nose back down by the dog door with another treat. Once the door opened Neal held it open and tossed the liver snack into the house which the dog chased after. Taking off the painting case Neal pushed it through the door. Neal followed and although it was a tight fit with his shoulders that required a little bit of contortion afterward he was easily able to get his narrow hips through and was quickly inside the house.

The Lab came over and sat down in front of Neal in hopes that his good behavior would earn him another treat. Handing over another square of beef liver to solidify their relationship Neal then held one in his closed hand to encourage the dog to follow him. With his nose stuck to Neal's closed fist the Lab was more than happy to accompany him through the house. Neal walk carefully through the lower level of the house using the clanking sound of the dog's collar tags and his nails clicking against the tile to hide his own footsteps. The sound of the dog wandering the house at night wouldn't be out of place and easily ignored by the people sleeping in the house since they were used to hearing it.

With his new accomplice Neal made his way up the stairs and past the second story bedrooms without disturbing anyone. Once on the third floor Neal gave the dog the treat that he had been working so hard to get at. Bashiri kept his office door locked with an exterior door type lock that had both a key and a keyless entrypad, but it didn't take Neal more than a few minutes with the pick set to open it. Neal looked down at the Lab who instantly sat down and wagged.

"Stay." Neal ordered the dog quietly.

Breaking into an open mouth pant the dog seemed content to wait. Neal stepped into the large home office and closed the door behind himself before locking it. It was clear that Bashiri spent a lot of time in the office and it was set up with a large leather couch and small kitchenette so that he could spend long hours at 'work' without being disturbed or disturbing the rest of the house hold. Above the couch hung the four by three foot oil painting by Afshin Pirhashemi. The painting was a breathtaking black and white up close portrait of a Middle Eastern woman whose large eyes stared directly at the viewer and almost seemed to be challenging them. Frost had been unable to get any intelligence on if the painting was wired into the security system, but it was assumed that it was. Carefully looking under the painting without lifting it too far away from the wall Neal caught site of the wires that connected it to the house alarm. Neal was about to start on the wires when he suddenly heard the dog as he took off down the stairs.

'Neal,' Frost's voice hissed in Neal's ear 'movement downstairs.'

Neal instinctively froze in place while he waited for an update on the situation. The modern design house had a great deal of large glass windows that gave Frost and Bryant a good look inside.

'It's Alan, it looks like he's getting a glass of water, probable for one of his kids. Hold position…okay, he's taking it up to the second floor, he should just go back to bed.'

Neal found himself holding his breath against a racing heart as he waited. Looking around the office he searched for options if he had to hide. Unfortunately there really weren't any good places in the open design office to conceal himself. There was a sliding glass door that lead out onto a balcony with a metal railing, but the drapes were just sheer white and his shadow would stand out on them if he tried to hide out there.

'Shit.' Frost cursed in his ear. 'Neal, that damn dog is really excited, I think it's got Bashiri suspicious.'

As Frost gave him the update Neal could hear the dog running up and down the stairs between the second and third floor as he tried to lead his owner to meet his new friend.

'Neal, you need to hide.'

"I can't hide from a dog, he can smell me." Neal whispered. "He's going to come right to me."

'Then we're coming in for you, just jump Bashiri when he steps through the door, get the drop on him and we'll be there in a…'

"I don't 'jump' people, besides Bashiri has a good fifty pounds on me and he's got kids to protect. He'll be half way through beating me to death before you get here."

'We have to do something, Neal he's looking up the stairs, we need to make a move now!"

"Unfortunately, I have an idea."

'What? Neal, what are you doing?'

Neal didn't have time to explain anything to Frost he could hear Bashiri asking his dog what was wrong as he mounted the stairs. Taking out the dark folding knife that had come in his cargo pocket Neal winced as he stabbed the razor sharp blade into the edge of the painting and quickly cut it free of its frame. He hated to cut it out of its frame rather than remove it properly, but he was in a hurry. Rolling it up Neal slipped it into the case and slug it back over his shoulders as he hurried over to open the sliding glass door that lead to the balcony. Taking a brief look out over the edge Neal backed up into the room about fifteen feet and took a deep breath, he could hear Bashiri punching his code into the door to open it and knew it was now or never.

'What the hell are you doing?' Frost demanded.

"Making my move."

Bashiri cautiously turned the door knob, he was probably thinking to himself that he was crazy for suspecting that anything was wrong but at the same time couldn't just go back to bed without checking. Neal couldn't be certain how Bashiri would react to finding an intruder, but he really didn't want to find out. Determined not to be caught Neal broke into a sprint and raced towards the metal railing.

'Neal, no!' Frost cried.

Far too late to stop now Neal used his substantial forward momentum to help him haul himself up on the rail. Planting both feet on the square metal Neal pushed off away from the house with as much strength as his adrenaline fueled muscles allowed for as he jumped from the impressive height. Neal had used this extreme escape route several times in various situations, but this was the first time he hadn't carefully mapped out the landing first. Praying the water was going to be deep enough Neal did his best to land on his back with his arms out to cushion the fall.

Usually there was a certain serenity that came along with the rush of free fall, however, this time Neal's decent was accompanied by a colorful string of very creative expletives from Frost that were suddenly cut off as he hit the water. The splash down was by no means painless as he was knocked breathless from striking the bottom of the pool. However breaking the surface with a gasp Neal was certain that nothing was broken. Swimming to the far end of the pool Neal scrambled out and bolted for the tree line. Having set off the motion sensing lights Neal just ran in the direction that would quickest get out of the light off to the East rather than the South where Frost and Bryant were waiting. Once in the darkness of the woods Neal shook the water out of his hair and looked back on the house.

"I have to admit, Frost, that was fun." Neal chuckled. "Frost?"

Not getting a response Neal reached up to check his ear piece and found that he had lost it when he hit the water. Not to worried about losing communication Neal looked around the dense forest to get his bearings. Knowing that Bashiri would be calling the cops Neal decided the best idea was to head back towards the car seeing as thing had clearly gone sideways. He wasn't exactly sure where the car was from here but he knew the general direction of the road and figured he could find it from there. Heading towards the road at a light trot he was confident that Frost and Bryant would be on their way back as well. About a hundred yards into the journey Neal heard the snap of someone stepping down hard on a fallen branch behind him. He slowed as he went to look over his shoulder to inspect the source of the sound.

"Fro…"

Neal was cut off as someone tackled him from behind and knocked forward to the ground. Whoever had driven him to the forest floor tried to pry the protective case with the painting off his back, but he'd tightened down the strap in preparation to jump from the balcony. Panicking from the unexpected assault Neal lashed out and managed to land a solid kick that forced his opponent back. Scrambling to his feet Neal went to run only to be tripped when the man grabbed onto his ankle with a vice like grip.

Back on the ground Neal twisted over onto his back to kick at his attacker again. When it came to fight or flight Neal knew he had a much better chance if he ran, but he had to get free first. Jumping back to his feet Neal found himself facing a muscular man dressed fully in black including a black mask. When the man pulled out a knife Neal jerked back and automatically raised up his right arm to protect his eyes at the man slashed at him. Backing into a tree Neal cried out sharply as the blade bit into his skin and left a diagonal laceration down nearly the whole length of his forearm.

Unlike the dark blade that Neal had the knife this man had gleamed brightly in the scant moonlight as he arced the blade once again at Neal's chest in an attempt to cut the case strap free. With his only real option for getting out of the way being down Neal dropped to his knees causing the man to sink the knife into the tree he'd been backed into. Still on his knees Neal was just about to try to go on the offensive when Bryant arrived on the scene with all the fury of a charging lion.

Bryant slammed into the intruder with enough force to knock him both down and breathless. Unlike the man's original somewhat clumsy attack on Neal Bryant ensured that once his prey was down that he was in a position of power over him as he straddled his hips to hold him down and made sure he stayed that way with two quick successive punches to the face. Neal was distracted from the chaotic scene as Frost appeared and clamped his hand down on Neal's bleeding forearm. Using the purchase to haul Neal to his feet Frost dragged him away from the fighting men.

"Bryant…"

"He's got this." Frost assured.

Frost wasn't wrong and although the assailant put up a vicious fight and got in a few shots it was clear that Bryant had control of the situation. The entire violent battle only lasted a few minutes and ended suddenly when Bryant gave up on trying to get his opponent to submit and simply put all of his skill and force into a crushing blow to the man's throat. Neal stared in horror as the man convulsed under Bryant sickeningly before going slack. With the fight over Bryant reached down and pulled off the man's mask and swore.

"Neal? Neal, you with me?" Frost asked concerned.

"Is…is he dead?"

"Don't worry about that." Frost said as he inspected Neal's arm. "This doesn't look too deep, can you move your fingers?"

Neal couldn't open his hand, but he guessed it was from the muscles cramps that he got when stressed rather than the injury which didn't even hurt at the moment. Neal pulled his arm away from Frost and held the bleeding gash closed himself as he continued to stare at the man Bryant had just murdered. Bryant got up off his victim and calmly walked over to join the others.

"You okay, Neal?" Bryant asked.

Neal just nodded vacantly.

"You're not going to believe this, Frost." Bryant smiled brightly. "It's Mathews."

"Carl Mathews?" Frost replied surprised. "Excellent. There's one thorn out of our side."

"How long has he been on the top of our 'to do' list?" Bryant chuckled.

"Way too long. Of all the guys to show up tonight I'm glad it was him. Good work." Frost congratulated. "Neal…"

Frost had turned to address Neal only to find that he had backed away from the pair a few feet. Still holding his bleeding arm with his index and pinkie finger curled against his palm Neal grit his teeth against twisting phantom pain in his shoulder combined with the real pain from the cut that was just starting to register as his adrenaline came down. Frost took a step closer causing Neal to jerk back.

"Neal…"

"You used me as bait?" Neal accused darkly.

"What? No, this was just…a lucky accident."

"You expect me to believe that?" Neal growled.

"You said it yourself that working the Ivory List was a good way to get killed because of this exact situation." Frost pointed out.

"I did not sign up to part of any assassinations."

"Assassination?" Frost repeated indignantly.

"I didn't come here tonight so that you could check someone off your 'to do' list!"

"You think we planned for you to throw yourself off a third story balcony and then run off in the wrong direction to get ambushed? None of this would have happened if you'd stuck to the plan."

"You didn't have to kill him!"

"Bryant just save your life," Frost snapped getting angry "I think a little fucking gratitude is in order!"

Frost and Neal stared each other down for a moment while Bryant looked nervously between the pair like a child watching his parents fight. Frost looked he was about to say something, but not interested in hearing what it was Neal struggled with the art case to get it off his shoulder.

"Here," Neal tossed the case to Frost "take it. Assuming you even care about it in the first place."

Neal turned away and stared walked towards the road. His initial plan was to call Peter for a ride home, but as he moved in his sopping wet clothes he realized that the phone had probably been ruined during his swim. Not caring that he may have to walk to Baltimore Neal kept going.

"Neal, get back here." Frost ordered. "You can't just wander off."

"I'll find my own way back to DC. Just stay away from me! I'm not doing this again, I don't care what the repercussions are!"

Frost ground his teeth in frustration at Neal's behavior as he stalked off away from them. He glanced over at Bryant and saw that his partner was a little more sympathetic towards Neal's reaction to the violent and unexpected death. Frost knew that Bryant was right, Neal really wasn't over reacting. Neal didn't have any real training in combat and even less real world experience with it, he was even known in the criminal circle as being anti-violence. Frost recalled spiraling into a bit of an existential crisis in the days follow his first kill. Bryant kept looking at him, raising an expectant eyebrow.

"I know, I know." Frost huffed before Bryant said anything. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to him."

"No, this situation is FUBAR." Frost shook his head sadly. "We need to dose him."

"Are you sure?" Bryant asked with a wince.

"Just do it."

Bryant took a breath to protest but Frost stopped him with a glare. Giving in Bryant reached into one of his large cargo pockets and brought out a narrow barreled gun that was so small that it was a little awkward in his hand. Taking close aim he fired the weapon which just made a soft hissing noise. Neal jerked as he felt something sharp sting his shoulder. Reaching over with a bloody hand he yanked the small dart out. Terrified Neal tried to run but he didn't make in more than ten feet before crashing to the forest floor.

Frost limped up to where Neal was laying in the leaf litter breathing heavily as he tried to fight the drugs. Bryant joined him and knelt down to turn Neal over on his back and check his pulse. Feeling his consciousness slipping away Neal struggled to keep his eyes open as they rolled back to white. Quickly losing the battle Neal passed out. Looking down at Neal Frost sighed heavily.

"…Burke is going to kill me."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

"What's wrong, Hon?"

"Nothing."

Siting across the dinning room table Elizabeth cleared her throat quietly in a gentle warning to Peter not to lie to her. Hearing the message loud and clear Peter looked guiltily from his mostly untouched meal. Instantly recognizing the particular stress that Peter was under at the moment Elizabeth smiled warmly.

"Neal?"

"Neal." Peter confirmed with a frustrated sigh.

"Peter don't be so hard on him." Elizabeth suggested. "You need to give him a little more time to adjust to the idea of being an Agent, it's only been two days."

"It's not that. I know he has what it takes to be a great Agent, and I honestly believe he wants to be one."

"But…" Elizabeth prompted when Peter didn't continue.

"But he's out stealing something tonight." Peter confessed.

"Ah." Elizabeth smiled sadly in sudden understanding. "I assume with Frost?"

Peter just nodded. He had told Frost from the start that he wasn't going to lie to her about what was happen. She knew the broad stroke about what had happened to land them in DC and Frost's deal with Neal, but right now he found himself hesitant to talk about the details. Unable to sit and idly move food around his plate Peter pushed himself away from the table and got to his feet. Satchmo had been sitting next to him, his full attention on the fact that his master wasn't interested in his meal. Seeing the hopeful dog Peter picked up the plate and put it on the floor. Not questioning the rare gift Satchmo started wolfing it down with record speed. Elizabeth looked at Peter in concern, he didn't usually break the no table scraps rule let alone just let Satchmo eat directly from the dinnerware.

Dragging his hands through his hair Peter headed out into the living room. Their new town home was a similar set up but was slightly larger than the one back in New York. Elizabeth had taken the opportunity of moving to a new city to redecorate and although she had kept a few choice pieces of furniture and all of their pictures the room still didn't feel quite like home yet which added to his unrest. Too agitated to sit down Peter paced aimlessly wondering if he should go out for a run or if he needed to stay home in case Neal called him needing help.

Elizabeth didn't let Peter stew for long knowing that he was going to work himself up further. After taking her own dish to the sink to keep Satchmo from thinking that it was open season on table food Elizabeth joined him in the living room. Elizabeth stepped up to Peter and he automatically wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. He hated making her worry particularly since for the past five months while Neal was at the Academy their lives had almost settled into something that resembled peaceful.

"I'm sorry." Peter apologized.

"It's okay, you're adorable when you're being over protective."

"I know I'm over reacting. I know that Neal is with the CIA tonight and that it's a mission and not heist, and I know that I agreed to all of this when we took Frost's deal."

"So what's wrong?"

"I just can't shake the feeling that Frost doesn't have the first clue of what he's getting into when it comes to Neal."

"Hon...have you considered the idea that there might be a little jealousy at play here?" Elizabeth asked carefully.

"Jealousy?"

"As much as you've done for Neal, and as much as I know he appreciates the chances you've given him, Frost has offered Neal so much that you never could: a clean slate, a shot at a career path he can be proud of, while at the same time encouraging him to keep being a 'bad boy' without the risk of consequences."

"I'm not jealous." Peter said firmly.

"Right." Elizabeth said unconvinced. "I know how much you hate the idea of Neal stealing even if it's for the CIA, but…"

"It's not the fact that he's stealing," Peter interrupted "it's that he's not excited about it."

"What?"

"I expected Neal to jump at the chance to break the law under the guise of national security, I thought the hardest part about this set up was going to be having to put up with a stupid cocky grin on his face anytime Frost called him away for a night of illegal activity. But he wasn't happy about it at all, in fact he was miserable. He couldn't even look at me when he told me Frost wanted him tonight. Whatever Frost has planned Neal's heart isn't in it, and when you try to force Neal into doing anything he resists and then he makes mistakes."

Releasing Elizabeth Peter took a step back as his nervous energy started to get the better of him again. Elizabeth sighed sadly, she had known that Neal's first venture out with Frost was going to be hard on Peter, she had just been more prepared for him to be angry or disappointed rather than anxious. She wished she could argue his last point about Neal and ease his concerns, but she knew he was right.

"I should have gone with him."

"And do what?" Elizabeth asked seriously. "You think it would help Neal to have you there? You know how he hates to fall short in your eyes. He has always wanted your approval and failing that he's always sought your forgiveness. Now the stakes are higher than ever for him, before he just had to live up to your lowest expectations of him and that was to basically to stay out of trouble for forty-eight hours at a time."

"Something he rarely achieved." Peter admitted ruefully.

"Exactly. Having you there would only be a distraction. He's not exactly doing wrong, but he knows you don't think he's doing right. You need to let Frost and Neal figure out how they are going to work together on their own."

"You're right." Peter agreed.

"But that doesn't you feel any better about this, does it?"

"Not in the slightest, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"There's the real issue."

Peter managed a slight smile at Elizabeth's insight. Pushing herself up on her toes Elizabeth gave Peter a quick kiss to show that she still supported him even if he didn't have all the answers. Peter returned the affection grateful to be able to talk to her about this even if it didn't really get him anywhere. Although it did help him realize that he was anticipating trouble when he had no evidence that anything was going wrong. Neal was skilled and he could take care of himself, and Frost was a Federal Agent even if it was through the CIA rather than the FBI and he had invested a lot of time and money into Neal.

Feeling better but still with more energy than he knew what to do with Peter decided to go for the run he'd contemplated earlier. Although it was a little awkward to have his phone bounce around in his pocket he took it with him just in case. Elizabeth had gotten home a little late for dinner so the sun had set an over hour ago, however a great deal of DC's true beauty only came out at night. The monuments and historical buildings all had carefully designed lights that made the capitol city gleam in the dark. Leaving the residential neighborhood it didn't take Peter long to arrive at the National Mall where he head for the path that would take him around the large reflecting pool.

Surrounded by the country's most iconic historical buildings and monuments it was impossible not to feel a powerful patriotic pride. The reflecting pool was calm and flat as glass giving it a sheen that mirror the world above it perfectly. Peter made his way at a quick pace towards the gigantic statue of Lincoln who was stoically looking over the pool from behind the pillars of the monument that was glowing a soft amber color. The heavy scent of cherry blossoms added to the peaceful scene as Peter continued on through the maze of solemn monuments and memorials to those who had given their lives in the pursuit of an ideal Union.

An hour later Peter was forced to reduced his run back down to a walk. Pushing himself to the point of dripping sweat had gone a long way to helping clear his mind. He still didn't agree with how Frost went about protecting the country that they both loved and served, but at the same time he could acknowledge that unusual threats required unusual responses. Neal may have been experiencing some regrets about his thieving past, but this really was different. The only 'greater good' Neal had ever been working for before was the good of his own wallet and criminal resume.

"At least Frost is focusing your talents towards a worthy goal…hopefully."

Peter's nature couldn't keep him from still believing deep down that there was no way to make a right out of a wrong. He was attempting to come to terms with the idea that 'wrong' might not have the black and white definition that he tended to apply to it when it came to stopping terrorists, but it still felt like a very dangerous slippy slope to stand on. Realizing that he'd been wandering while lost in thought Peter pulled out his phone Peter was surprised to find that it was nearly eleven and he was a lot further from home than he had planed on. He hadn't missed any calls or messages, but Peter wasn't inclined to believe in no news is good news when Neal was concerned. Peter sent Elizabeth a quick text that he wouldn't be home for a while so that she wouldn't worry about him and started to walk towards home.

Having taken a somewhat circular route it only took Peter an hour an a half to get back home at a walking pace. He wasn't in any rush knowing that he probably wasn't going to get any sleep tonight anyway. Getting home after midnight Peter went to use the downstairs bathroom to take a shower and had to smile when he found that Elizabeth had left him a pair of pajama pants and white t-shirt on the sink counter for him.

Fresh from the shower Peter pulled on the pajamas and was still drying his hair with a towel when he heard someone having a hushed argument on his front step. Dropping the towel Peter quietly stepped over to where his jacket and holster were still draped across one of the living room chairs. Retrieving his gun Peter slipped over and put his back to the wall near the front window. Carefully pulling the curtain aside Peter flicked the safety back on but still brought the weapon with him to answer the door that Frost was still arguing with Bryant over knocking on while Neal stood between them looking ready to pass out. Peter yanked the door open before the pair could come to a consensus and stared at them in a silent demand for a very quick explanation as to what was going on. Frost smiled guiltily at Peter like a teenager who had just gotten caught being out past curfew.

Seeing the gun Frost instantly brought his hands up to show he wasn't a threat, Bryant was busy helping Neal stand but he did his best to look innocent as well. Dressed in a pair of white scrubs and combat type black boots with his right arm wrapped in gauze from his wrist to his elbow Neal was leaning heavily on Bryant. With his uninjured arm slung over Bryant's shoulder Neal looked drunk, not the kind of drunk where you were having fun, but intoxicated to the point of regret. Quickly taking in the scene Peter turned a deadly glare on Frost.

"I told you he'd be armed." Frost hissed at Bryant before turning back to Peter. "Hi, Peter, please don't kill me."

"Give me one good reason not to."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Too angry to even think to invite the three men standing on his front step at one in the morning inside Peter waited for Frost to explain himself with his hand still firmly on the grip of his gun. Neal was as ivory as the scrubs he was wearing. He looked like he was suffering from a miserable hangover but when he brought his head up and caught sight of Peter he smiled brightly in relief.

"Peter!" Neal greeted cheerfully, but then instantly winced in pain as his own voice was too loud for his current condition. "How are you doing?"

"Better than you."

"No, no…I'm okay." Neal suddenly furrowed his brow as if he realized that that might not be true before he looked to Frost. "I'm okay, right?"

"You're fine." Frost assured.

"Are you sure? My head *really* hurts."

"Neal…" Peter stepped forward to help Neal but stopped when Neal's eyes suddenly widened in fear.

"I'm going to be sick." Neal warned urgently.

"Again?" Bryant complained.

"The bathroom is rig…" Peter was cut off again as Bryant quickly lead Neal off the front steps and onto the small lawn.

"He's not going to make it that far." Frost explained apologetically. "It's either the azalea bushes or your carpet. Trust me, I already failed to pull the car over in time earlier."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Frost as Neal started to noisily retch into the bushes.

"See?" Frost chuckled.

"What the hell did you do to him?!" Peter snarled.

"I didn't do anything, I swear. It was totally unforeseeable circumstances…"

"What's not going to be 'unforeseeable' is the violence that is about to unfold if I don't get a straight answer right this instant!"

"It's okay, Peter, it's not Frost's fault." Neal said as he pushed away from Bryant and made his way unsteadily up the steps to rescue Frost. "Apparently I improvised."

"Apparently?" Peter questioned Neal's word usage.

"See now I thought that 'improvised' was the more crucial word in that statement." Frost noted.

"Someone just tell me what happened." Peter demanded angrily causing Neal to flinch as his headache flared.

"Everything was going fine until Neal decided to dive off a third story balcony into the shallow end of a pool." Frost answered simply. "And after knocking himself unconscious and almost drowning he now has a mild to moderate concussion. Hence the confusion and the memory loss."

"I don't remember any of that." Neal said with a sheepish look. "But is does sound like something I'd do."

"It certainly does…" Peter grumbled. "Come on, Neal, we need to get you to a hospital."

"I think I was just there." Neal replied confused.

"We're not animals, Peter." Frost said defensively. "We took him straight to Fort Meade and the Medical CO gave him a full work up…"

"That I do remember." Neal interrupted. "At least most of it. Something about a tetanus shot?"

"Yes," Frost nodded "when we were high tailing it through the woods Neal got caught on some old horse fencing and cut his arm."

"I don't remember that." Neal mused to himself, losing focus as he stared at his wrapped arm. "My arm is all numb. Is that normal?"

"That's just the lidocane, you needed some stitches and a tetanus shot. Nothing serious."

"If you say so." Neal shrugged with a yawn. "Can I lay down? Or am I not allowed to do that with a concussion? Kinda having a hard time thinking. I'm really tired…did I mention my head hurts?"

Still standing on the front step Neal bowed his head in exhaustion as he closed his eyes. Frost went to put his arm around Neal's waist to help him stay on his feet however Peter stopped him by reaching out and taking Neal by the upper arm to encourage him to step into the house. Stumbling forward Peter had to catch Neal to keep him off his knees. Breathing heavily Neal leaned against Peter's chest and took a moment to recover before standing back up on his own. Chastising himself for wasting time arguing with Frost rather than getting Neal laying down Peter helped him through the living room the back guest room.

Frost invited himself inside to follow Peter. Bryant balked at the doorway worrying about the FBI Agent's reaction to them just making themselves at home in his house. Stepping inside and catching up with Frost Bryant reached out and tugged on Frost's shirt in a silent suggestion that they say good-night before any further confrontation. Pulling away from Bryant Frost put up his hand with one finger up to let him know he'd only be a second. After an eventful night Frost was limping heavily, but he did his best to ignore the old injury. Sighing in defeat Bryant followed along, stopping at the doorway to the bed room he stood just outside it as if on guard.

Peter knew Frost had followed him in, he wasn't happy about it but he was more focused on getting Neal in bed before he passed out. Frost stayed close in case Peter needed more help but he didn't interfere with the pair. Putting his gun down on the night stand Peter sat Neal down on the edge of the bed and put his hands on his shoulders for a moment to make sure he didn't fall back. Not confident that Neal wasn't going to tip over Peter kept one hand on Neal's shoulder while he bent down and used the other to untie the lacing on the heavy boots that Neal was wearing. Neal peacefully sat on the bed and allowed Peter to help him get the shoes off. After dealing with the shoes Peter stayed knelt down and encouraged Neal to look directly at him. Guessing what Peter was doing Neal stared unblinkingly at Peter to prove to him that his pupils were equally dilated and that he didn't have any serious neurological damage.

"We tried to get him to stay at the Fort sick bay," Frost explained before Peter could accuse him of anything. "He was so agitated and demanding to see you that the doctor thought it would be better if we just did what he wanted and let him calm naturally rather than drugging him. I know he seems really confused, but other than the concussion his tests all came back negative, there's no bleed in his brain so it's safe to let him rest as long as someone watches him for the next twenty-four hours. Bryant and I can…"

"No." Peter interrupted coldly. "You've done enough. I'll take care of him from here."

"You look angry, Peter." Neal stated warily before looking to Frost. "Maybe you shouldn't leave me with him, he look really angry."

"I'm not angry at you, Neal."

"Are you sure?" Neal asked doubtfully in his dazed state. "That's your 'Neal, I don't approve of you life choices' face."

"Just lay down."

Neal didn't need to be told twice and with Peter's help he swung his leg up onto the bed. Worried about the palpable tension between everyone in the room Neal struggled to stay awake however it didn't take more than a few seconds before he lost the fight. Peter stood back up and reached down to press his finger tips against Neal's throat to check his pulse which he found to be steady and strong.

"Peter…" Frost started.

"Get out of my house."

"Peter, I'm sorr…"

Frost was caught by surprise when Peter suddenly rushed him. Crossing his forearm over Frost's chest Peter drove him up against the wall and pinned him there. Frost didn't struggle but he did bring his hand up slightly so that he could strike Peter in the ribs if he had to. Bryant's automatic response to the violence was to unholster his weapon with blinding speed and train it on Peter with his finger held just off the trigger. Ignoring Bryant Peter bared his teeth at Frost in pure rage.

"Let him go, Agent Burke." Bryant growled dangerously. "Right now."

"Stand down, Bryant." Frost ordered.

Bryant backed down instantly and holstering his weapon even though he kept on alert to intervene. It hadn't really been his intention to take aim at Peter it was just his training being triggered and once he was committed to the show of force he felt he had to follow through with it until Frost gave him a way out.

"Peter, I know that you were already worried about Neal stealing again and that this hasn't hel…"

"I'm worried that you aren't going to be happy until you get him killed!" Peter hissed angrily.

"I never meant for Neal to get hurt and I am certainly not looking to get anyone killed."

"You couldn't allow him to adjust to being an Agent for even a week in fear that he'd become useless to you," Peter accused darkly "you had to force him back into his old life before he could even get a handle on his new one. So you just blindly threw him into a situation that you couldn't control, and he paid the price for it."

"I didn't force him into this, but I did push him, and that was a mistake." Frost admitted seriously. "You're right though, Neal's heart wasn't in it and I found out the hard way that he is *spectacularly* bad at following orders."

"I could have told you that if you'd bothered to ask." Peter spat as he pushed himself away from Frost.

"I know now I jumped into all of this too quickly. For that I am genuinely sorry." Frost apologized. "I took Neal out into the field before he trusted me, I had no right to do that."

"No you didn't."

"But it wasn't for the reasons that you're thinking." Frost added. "I was in a rush and that of course is when mistakes happen. What did Neal tell you about what we were doing tonight?"

"Almost nothing."

"Not a surprise, he wasn't as keen on this as I thought he'd be. In any case, a painting showed up on the Ivory List that was in a private residence rather than a museum and I had to act fast to prevent civilian blood shed. Neal pulled it off despite having very little time to plan and he save a family of four from what could have been a violent and bloody break in if someone had beaten us to it, not to mention he kept a healthy sum of money out of undesirable hands. You should be proud of him, Peter, he did good tonight."

Peter didn't respond, but he did relax some of the anger that had been holding his shoulder blades tight. Seeing the change in Peter's stance Frost took the chance of moving away from the wall carefully to take a step away from Peter and towards Bryant.

"We are on the same side Peter," Frost said quietly "I will prove that to you."

"We may be on the same side, but we don't play by the same rules and that's no way to form a team."

"You're right. We will figure out a compromise later, okay?"

"It's not like I have a choice." Peter said in bitter defeat.

"I know that you feel like you've made a deal with the Devil with me, but I know that we can make this work. We both want the same things Agent Burke, we will find a way to get them together."

"Just leave."

"Alright." Frost reached into his cargo pants and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen that he wrote a phone number on. "Call this number if Neal's condition gets worse in any way, they'll have a better response time than 911 and they already know his medical history."

Peter accepted the number than Frost handed him and nodded but couldn't bring himself to say 'thank you'. Frost looked to Bryant and flashed him a 'I think that went well as could be expected' smile. Bryant just shook his head sadly and turned to head for the front door to leave. Frost looked Neal over for a moment with a guilty expression before limping off after Bryant.

"…Frost?" Peter called before he could get too far.

"Yes?"

"Neal isn't doing any more of these 'missions' without me."

"Agreed."

"And don't come to my house ever again. If Neal needs me you call me and I will come to him."

"Understood."

Peter waited for Frost and Bryant to both leave before he walked up to the door and locked it behind them. With his adrenaline starting to come down Peter found himself suddenly fighting a bone weary fatigue despite still having a nervous knot tied in his stomach. Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself Peter went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up to where Elizabeth was standing at the top looking anxious. He figured that she would be woken by the argument. He wasn't sure if she had known not to get involved or if she had simply been too frightened to come down the stairs, either way he was grateful that she had stayed out of it. He could hear Satchmo whine softly from where she had locked him in the bedroom.

"Hey, Hon." Peter smiled apologetically. "I'm so sorry about all that."

"Are you okay?" Elizabeth asked concerned.

"I am. Frost and I just don't see eye to eye yet."

"How's Neal? He sounded like he's in pretty bad shape."

"He just needs some sleep."

"So do you."

"I'll be up soon, I just need to check on him first." Peter said. "Are you alright?"

Elizabeth nodded even though she still looked apprehensive. Peter smiled warmly at her and assured her again that he'd be upstairs soon. Going back to where Neal was sleeping deeply Peter sat down on the edge of the bed to collect his thoughts for a moment. To Peter's surprise Neal woke with a breathless gasp of panic as he jerked his injured arm up to shield his face. Before Peter could even react Neal recognized him and instantly calmed.

"Peter." Neal greeted in relief as he relaxed nearly to the point of falling back asleep. "Where's Frost?"

"He left."

"You didn't kill him?"

"No. I seriously thought about it though."

"It's not his fault he couldn't control me." Neal smiled as he closed his eyes. "It sounds like I was more trouble tonight than I'm worth and he's still sticking by me, so maybe we're wrong about him."

"We'll talk about it later."

"Hell of a night." Neal chuckled weakly still sounding drunk. "I wish I remembered more of it."

"So do I."

"Ow…" Neal suddenly complained as he hugged his injured arm against his chest.

"Neal?"

"The lidocane is wearing off…I must have gotten really wrapped up in that damn fence."

"Can I see?"

Keeping his eyes closed Neal just raised his bandaged arm trustingly. Peter carefully unwrapped the tightly wrapped bandage to look at the cut. With the amount of gauze that the doctor had used Peter was expecting a somewhat sizable injury, but he wasn't expecting the large gash to run in a perfect arc across the entire length of Neal's forearm. The cut was very clean and had been stitched together carefully with a series of tiny blue stitches, from the distribution of stitches Peter could see the cut was shallow by the wrist but became fairly deep closer to the elbow. The area was red but it didn't look infected or even particularly swollen. Neal pried his eyes open and turned his arm in Peter's gently hold so that he could see it.

"Wow…that's going to leave a mark." Neal said impressed.

"You really don't remember anything about getting this?"

"Nothing."

Peter furrowed his brow as he continued to inspect the unusual diagonal injury. Having grown up in upstate New York surrounded by horse farms Peter was intimately familiar with the kind of damage a broken piece of horse fencing could do. He had a faded scar running down his left calf to prove it. However his own encounter with the piece of barbed metal at the edge of a field had left him with a jagged zig-zag injury that had gotten infected right away despite treatment. Neal's cut was perfectly defined with clean edges. The injury didn't look like an accident catch on a rusty fence the way Frost had described it. To Peter it looked more like a defensive wound you would received when raising an arm to protect your eyes from a deliberate slashing attack with a razor sharp blade.

"Peter? What's wrong?"

"…nothing. Just get some sleep."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you really want to worry about the CIA look up project MKUltra....

Chapter Twelve

Caught in the grip of a chaotic and violent nightmare Neal fought with an imaginary foe until real pain broke through and tore him away from his dreams. Neal's heart slammed against his chest from a combination of the vivid dream and the sharp pain that was lancing up his contorted arm. Disoriented and convinced of a threat Neal kicked at the tangle of sheets that had snaked around him and pinned him down. With panic clouding his thinking and a powerful spasm keeping his arm curled tight against his chest Neal failed to free himself from the harmless sheets as he spiraled further into panic.

His shoulder injury had been annoying on and off but this was the first time it had truly gotten out of control in months and he didn't make the connection between the past injury and his current situation. Throwing his head back against the pillow Neal cried out in panic against the seemingly sourceless pain. He'd barely had time to take another breath before Peter opened the door and cautiously approached in an attempt to not startle his struggling partner. Quickly seeing an easy way to free Neal from the twisted sheet Peter pulled on the edge of it to release him which went a long way towards helping him calm down.

"Peter?"

"You're okay, you're safe." Peter said calmly. "Try to relax."

Although still in pain Neal nodded. Grinding his teeth together Neal's quick shallow breaths hissed across his teeth as he struggled to follow Peter's advice. With Peter there Neal had been able to cut through his initial confusion and realized that he was wasn't in any immediate danger, but he was having a difficult time convincing his rebellious arm of that. The hectic night, the slash down his arm, and waking in the unfamiliar surroundings had triggered his conversion disorder symptoms with a vengeance. Trying to focus Neal weld his eyes shut against a powerful headache that suddenly assaulted his already overtaxed senses

Neal reached up to try and pry his arm away from his chest himself but it only made it worse. Usually if he could just get the muscles stretched out they calmed down. Between the dive off the balcony and the late night Neal didn't have the strength at the moment to move the tight joints and trying was aggravating his headache. In the past before he'd known about the psychosomatic condition when he'd woken like this he'd chewed on a handful of Percocet to solve the issue, but he had refused a Vicodin prescription last night when the Army doctor at Fort Meade had offered it to him in fear of rekindling the addiction even if he had genuine need for the pain killer. Wishing he hadn't said no now Neal continued to struggle against the powerful phantom pain.

"Can I help?" Peter asked before moving to touch Neal.

"Please." Neal panted.

"Okay. Breath."

Neal nodded and concentrated on taking a few deep breaths while Peter worked on getting his hand between Neal's wrist and his chest. Once he got a good hold of Neal's wrist, being carefully of the fresh cut, Peter pushed down on the front of Neal's shoulder where the scar from the entrance wound marred his skin. The pressure helped Neal's nervous system understand that the injury was in the past and began to loosen the muscles. It still took a bit of force but Peter was able to pull Neal's arm away from his body. Prying Neal's hand open Peter switched his grip from his wrist to taking his hand to help keep it open as he continued to stretch out his arm. Managing a truly deep breath Neal was able to slowly regain control and relaxed to the point where he could release his painfully tight grip on Peter's hand. After taking a moment to recover Neal sat up without help. He rolled his shoulder back a few times and flexed his arm until the tone returned mostly to normal.

"Better?"

"Yes, thank you, Peter."

"I was afraid that was going to be a problem again with everything that happened last night."

"At my last check up Dr Harris said that it might take a while before I am completely free of relapses, but they are becoming less frequent and until now they've far less intense." Neal opened and closed his hand to help remove the last of the tingling. "I still don't fully understand how something in my head can manifest physically so powerfully."

"You're still seeing the CIA doctor?"

"I asked Frost if I could see him when I was having some trouble with my shoulder at the Academy. He was the only doctor that really helped me or even believed me."

"That's true."

"Hopefully this morning was just a one time thing. Last night was pretty rough…from what I remember."

"Any of the missing pieces coming back?"

"Some of them. Did I throw up in your bushes?"

"You did." Peter sighed.

"Everything is still really patchy, even the visit to Fort Meade is hazy. I recall Bryant being more concerned than Frost, at least I think that's what was going on. He kept pulling Frost away and talking to him in a hushed worried tone."

"Frost was certainly more caviler about the situation last night on the front step than Bryant."

Neal nodded, instantly regretting doing so as his headache flared again. He tried to think back on Frost and Bryant's behavior last night, but it didn't really seem out of the ordinary. Bryant had certain intensity about him that Frost didn't have. Bryant certainly had a sense of humor and often gave off a very laid back vibe, but he went from zero to sixty in the blink of an eye when he perceived a threat and stayed on high alert for an extended period of time once set into motion. Neal had this vague memory of Bryant's lip pulled away from his teeth in a snarl like an enraged wolf about to tear into its competitor. He couldn't place what had happened to give him that image, but he felt a sinking fearful feeling in his stomach when he thought about the expression. Neal tried but he couldn't put together any coherent thoughts on what had happened in the woods after the break in other than a sense of adrenaline and fear. However it didn't make any sense, if Bryant had attacked him he'd be dead not injured.

"Neal?" Peter brought Neal back to the present. "You okay?"

"Peter…" Neal hesitated. "Do you think Frost would drug me?"

"Yes." Peter replied instantly.

"Wow, you didn't even think about that."

"I thought about it all night."

"You think I might be the latest MKUltra test subject?" Neal asked only partly joking.

"Maybe." Peter said seriously. "I seriously considered dragging you out of bed and taking you to the hospital for a tox screen."

"Why didn't you?"

"I realized there was no point." Peter said sounding frustrated. "If Frost did drug you he would have just switched out any test results we tried to get done."

"Usually I'd tease you for acting like a paranoid Mozzie, but in this case you're probably just right."

"I'm not saying he did, but Frost is more than capable of both drugging you and covering it up. The first time he decided you needed medical attention he straight out kidnapped you."

"That was as weird night." Neal agreed as he rubbed his shoulder. "But why drug me?"

"Simple, you saw something he didn't want you see."

"Or someone." Neal added looking at the stitched up slash in his arm.

"That does look like a defensive wound to me." Peter agreed. "You really don't remember anything about how that happened?"

"My last clear memory before arriving at Fort Meade is entering the room that had the painting, I don't even remember taking it. But I don't see what could have possibly gone so wrong that Frost felt the need to muck with my memory. It was just a heist."

"Was it?" Peter asked seriously. "I know that's what you were doing, but what were Frost and Bryant up to while you broke in. I assume they didn't come with you into the house."

"No, they stayed at the edge of the woods…but I asked them to do that." Neal said as he pieced his memory together. "They would have come with me if I asked, Frost put me in charge."

"But he'd know you work alone when it comes to these things and that you'd most likely ask them to stay behind."

"We could play Devil's Advocate on this back and forth all morning, couldn't we?" Neal sighed. "Maybe we really are being paranoid, things go wrong all the time."

"Particularly around you."

"And I do have a concussion like headache, not to mention the muscles down my back feel very much like they suffered an impact." Neal complained as he rubbed his sore lower back.

"I suppose that the simple answer here is that you really did jump off the balcony and ended up with a concussion rather than some elaborate scheme that involves Roofie-ing you." Peter admitted although he didn't sound convinced. "I've seen you dive out windows before, so I know you're insane enough to do it."

"Hey, I had a plan when I did that." Neal chuckled. "The look on your face was priceless."

"Even if everything Frost told us about last night is true I still don't like it." Peter said ignoring the jab. "Next time I'm coming with you."

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea." Neal warned. "I don't want you to have to steal with me. Even if it's sanctioned I know it will keep you up at night, it's not who you are."

"I can handle it. Leaving you alone with Frost keeps me up at night anyway. I should have been there for you last night."

"If Frost did drug me last night he would have just drugged you too...and I wouldn't wish this headache on my worst enemy."

Peter gave Neal a sympathetic look as Neal winched for effect. Peter took a breath to say something more when his cell phone rang. Neal flinched at the shrill sound causing Peter to dig the phone out of his pocket quickly to answer it. Peter mostly listened to the caller just offering occasional quick yes or no answers to let the caller know he understood. Hanging up the phone Peter released a deeply frustrated sigh. Neal knew Peter hated losing control of the situation and with Frost that was exactly what was happening. At the moment they didn't really have any solid evidence against trusting Frost and even if they did there wasn't really anything they could do about it. Neal still felt that Frost had made him an Agent and he could take that away just as quickly if he wanted to. They would have to just wait until the next time Frost asked for something to see what the best course of action was then. Peter stared pensively at nothing in particular looking a little overwhelmed.

"Everything okay?" Neal asked concerned. "Was that Frost?"

"No. Were you in Baltimore last night?"

"Yes." Neal confirmed. "That I do remember."

"Then at least part of Frost's story lines up. That was the Baltimore PD calling to open a top priority Art Crime file with the FBI. There was a B and E at the Bashiri residence last night, it would appear that he got in through the automatic dog door by luring the family pet out, and stole an Afshin Pirhashemi painting."

"I was proud of the dog door trick," Neal beamed "please tell Satchmo for me that Labs are the best."

"Satchmo wouldn't have let you get away with that."

"He certainly didn't stop me when I broke in to your house to…you know what, never mind." Neal said seeing the look Peter was giving him.

"Back to this crime," Peter said sternly "Mr. Bashiri interrupted the theft and the intruder jumped from the balcony to the pool below. Luckily he didn't get a look at your face."

"Did they say if Bashiri saw what happened next down in the pool? Frost claims that Bryant had to jump in to save me."

"He raced down to his bedroom to call 911, by the time he looked back outside you were gone."

"That's no help."

"Not really." Peter sighed heavily again.

"All in all this is good news, Peter, it tells us that Frost was telling the truth."

"I'm not willing to go that far, but it certainly shows he wasn't lying about everything. However I still really don't want to take this case knowing that I have to lie and I certainly don't want taking you to talk to Bashiri in case he recognizes something about you even if he doesn't think he saw your face."

"So give the case to someone else." Neal shrugged. "You're the Boss, you can do that. Besides we have the Bone Baron to go meet. We're already on an active case with the missing skulls, no one will think twice if you assign this to Agent Aubrey."

"That's not a good idea."

"Why not? Agent Aubrey is your ASAC after all, he's the obvious choice for a high profile case."

"Agent Aubrey doesn't like you."

"So?"

"So he's already highly suspicious of you."

"I still don't see the problem. I don't remember everything, but I know I didn't leave behind any hard evidence, I'm better than that. Besides, why would Aubrey even suspect me of this in the first place?"

"Because your crimes have a certain…je ne sais quoi." Peter finished dryly.

"Thank you, Peter." Neal smiled brightly.

"Not a compliment."

"It really is." Neal corrected. "In fact it might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Is it wrong of me to hope that Aubrey catches you?" Peter asked sourly.

"Frost would fix it, but a thousand dollars says he won't have to."

"Forget it." Peter shook his head. "No way I'm taking that bet."

"Thank you." Neal repeated sounding more touched than before.

"Now what?"

"Thank you for showing more faith in me than Aubrey."

"Aubrey is a good Agent." Peter said defensively.

"But I'm a better thief." Neal added with a wink.

"I didn't say that."

"It was strongly implied."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

Sitting at his desk muttering to himself unhappily Peter put together the official case file on the Bashiri break in. He looked through the information for the hundredth time before reluctantly signing his name to it. As confident as Neal was in his abilities he was also missing half the night and Peter wanted to ensure that nothing the police had given him so far pointed towards him. Peter felt it was obviously Neal's work, but he also reminded himself that he was bias.

Peter had dropped Neal off at his apartment to take a shower and possibly a quick nap before planing to join Peter at work in a few more hours. Peter had tried to convince him to just take the day off but Neal was far too excited about talking to the Bone Baron concerning the missing skulls. As much as Peter appreciated Neal's work ethic he worried about Neal pushing himself too hard after the night he'd had. Peter reminded himself to talk to Frost about the fact that Neal couldn't be working for the FBI all day and the CIA all night on a regular basis. Peter jolted slightly as his cell phone rang, taking it out he rolled his eyes when he discovered that not only was Frost calling but at some point in time he'd put himself into his contacts as 'Your Spook Friend'.

"What do you want?"

"Good morning to you too, Peter." Frost replied cheerfully. "How's Neal doing? I trust he lived through the night."

"He woke up in agony because of you." Peter snarled.

"What?" Frost asked sounding genuinely concerned. "Did you take him to the hospital? The concus…"

"It has nothing to do with his 'concussion', the stress of last night brought his conversion disorder back."

"That's not good. I'll have Dr. Harris check in with him right away. Injuring that same arm must have triggered it."

"What really happened last night, Frost?" Peter demanded. "A simple cut on a fence wouldn't have sent Neal back into the kind of panic he was in this morning."

"Peter I know that Neal is family to you and its hard to see him in pain, but with conversion dis…"

"Stop there," Peter interrupted "I'm not in the mood to play games and I'm clearly not going to get an honest answer or anything even resembling the truth out of you right now."

"I honestly don't want Neal to get hurt." Frost said solemnly. "Do you believe that's the truth?"

"For your sake it had better be."

Ending the conversation with the open threat Peter disconnected the call. Peter did believe that Frost didn't mean Neal any intentional harm, but that didn't mean he was above placing him in a dangerous situation as last night had proven. It might be out of Frost's control that Neal was quick to ignore orders and get into trouble, but it was his responsibility to be more careful when dealing with Neal and the kinds of jobs he asked him to do. Neal's individual thinking and 'leap before looking' personality wasn't something that Frost's military background had prepared him for dealing with. In general Peter felt Frost was ill equipt to even attempt to keep Neal safe in the field.

"Year of working with him and I'm barely qualified for the job." Peter admitted quietly to himself.

Peter had turned his back on Neal for half a second and he'd run off to confront Rebecca alone with what had ultimately ended with disastrous results. Considering the high price Neal had paid that day for his recklessness Peter had never confronted him about how his tenancy to abandon good sense and caution when his heart managed to speak louder than his head had lead to everything going wrong that day. It was a conversation they'd basically had a million times before to no effect anyway. Peter was considering whether or not he should try to talk to Neal about sticking closer to procedure now that he was actually in the FBI when there was a knock at the door. Knowing who it was Peter glanced over the case file one last time in hopes that anything he might have missed would jump out at him. Aubrey waited a full minute before cautiously knocking again.

"Come in." Peter called.

"Hey, Chief…is this a good time? I mean I know you called me in here and all, but if something's come up…"

"No, sorry, please, come in."

Aubrey came into Peter's office and made himself comfortable in one of the chairs in front of Peter's desk. Aubrey was a year younger than Neal but already had a good deal of gray at his temples. He'd been in the FBI since he was twenty-five, he'd spent the first three years of his career as part of the Hostage Rescue Team before moving into Behavioral Profiling briefly before settling into Art Crimes. Peter had read the report on the poorly ended hostage situation that had pushed Aubrey out of the high pressure hostage division and into the more office based areas of the FBI. From what he could see Aubrey hadn't been at fault for the hostage's death, but Peter could fully understand how the nightmare scenario had caused him to lose his nerve for future hostage situations.

"You were right about the Malaki case," Aubrey said conversationally "the wife did pay someone to destroy the heirloom painting, she confessed when confronted with the fact that she'd tried several times to find a buyer behind her husband's back. The divorce is now pending so…go team."

"Anyone willing to burn their spouse's past because it clashes with the furniture already had marital issues." Peter said without sympathy.

"Very true." Aubrey nodded.

"So that case is all wrapped up?"

"It is." Aubrey nodded. "No arrests, but I'll have the case report on your desk by the end of the week. Since they never actually filed for the insurance money there's no case there, the husband and his divorce lawyer can deal with local PD on any charges they want to press against her as far as property damage. It's not really an FBI problem anymore."

"Well your new case is." Peter assured.

"Something fresh?" Aubrey asked hopefully.

"Just last night."

"Wow, cops aren't usually that quick to alert us, half of what makes this jobs so tough is the fact that most cases are 'cold' before we even get our hands on them."

"This is a high profile theft that they want quick answer on, a home invasion."

"I'm surprised you don't want to take this one." Aubrey said as he reached out and took the folder. "It sounds fun."

"I'm working with Agent Caffrey on his first case. I need someone who can devote their full focus."

"On it." Aubrey smiled as he looked over the case file. "Damn…right off the balcony, that's bold. Kinda have to respect that kind of commitment to not getting caught. I can see why you didn't want to give this to Caffrey."

Peter gave Aubrey a questioning look.

"Didn't want him getting any ideas." Aubrey chuckled. "In the old days he would definitely been at the top of my list for this, it feels like something he'd do. Particularly this dog door stunt, very Caffrey, and the fact that the guy risked his own life rather than injure the homeowner."

"Aubrey…"

"Actually, do we know where Caffrey was last night?" Aubrey teased. "Where is he right now for that matter? Are we sure this wasn't him?"

"Aubrey." Peter growled darkly.

"Easy, Chief, just a joke."

"I don't appreciate it."

Peter hadn't meant to sound quite so angry or defensive but he had a healthy dose of both in his voice and the effect on Aubrey's light mood was instantaneous. He and Aubrey had gotten along very well in the first five months of Peter replacing the previous Section Chief. Aubrey had been more formal with him at first but had quickly relaxed when he found that Peter wasn't particularly 'level conscious'. Aubrey now had the fearful look of someone who had just taken one step too far with their boss and wasn't sure how to make it right.

"I'm sorry." Peter apologized.

"It's okay, I was out of line." Aubrey admitted sheepishly. "I shouldn't be slandering Agent Caffrey even in jest. I'll stop."

"Thank you."

"Although I have to say you had a better sense of humor before he graduated…has anyone ever told you that Caffrey kinda puts you on edge?"

"It's been mentioned once or twice." Peter sighed. "I have every faith that Neal is going to make an excellent Agent, but due to his reputation, deserved or not, he has a lot to prove."

"And comments like mine don't help." Aubrey added apologetically. "I'm sorry, I'm being unfair, of course he didn't do this. As much as I've suspected him over the years of countless thefts he has no record. Even your arrest…well I'm not sure what happened with that."

"I got the wrong man, simple as that." Peter lied. "It happens."

"I suppose." Aubrey said doubtfully. "Still I've read your case files with him as your CI, you don't learn the kind of skills he has by living an honest life. Of course the Statue of Limitations is probably up on anything he may or may not have done in the past so I guess all that really matters is that he's on the right side of the Law now."

"He is."

"Then I better get to work catching whoever this is." Aubrey lifted up the file.

"Keep my updated on anything that comes up with this case."

"Absolutely, Agent Burke." Aubrey replied respectfully. "Hey, maybe this is the _real_ 'Caffrey' we've been after all these years."

"Maybe..."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

"I should have taken that Vicodin prescription…or at very least taken the day off."

Sitting at his desk Neal rubbed at his temples against the unrelenting headache. Determined to ignore the pain and the desire for opioids Neal closed his eyes for a moment only to be assaulted by a flash of adrenaline. He still didn't have any clear memories of why he felt so uneasy, but something kept jolting his fight or flight instinct. Trying to remember anything about being in the woods Neal jolted violently as an unfamiliar cell phone rang out. His phone had been ruined by the pool, but a new one had been waiting for him at home. Taking his new phone out of his jacket Neal glanced at the caller and furrowed his brow at the ID: 'Partner in Extrajudicial Activities'.

"Frost?"

"Oh good," Frost said brightly "you found the phone I left you."

"It was on my kitchen counter." Neal grumbled. "Stop breaking into my apartment."

"Sorry, the phone was expensive, didn't want a construction worker finding it since they are doing some finishing work on your floor today. And I was too afraid to face Peter again this morning to deliver it to you at his house."

"You are not his favorite person right now." Neal agreed.

"How about you?"

"He's more concerned about me than angry."

"No, I meant are you and I still good?" Frost asked.

"For now."

"I'll take that." Frost chuckled.

"Did you call just to see if you were in the dog house?"

"Yes, although I also wanted to let you know I'm pulling some strings to look into the Gardner case for you."

"Why?"

"You help on my cases, I help you on yours." Frost replied simply.

"You want to help on a FBI case? You didn't seem very interested before."

"I thought it might help with inter Agency relations." Frost explained.

"I haven't really had time to look into the Gardner, I've got a more recent case I'm working."

"Perfect, you solve that one, I'll get this one going for us." Frost said sounding excited. "Good luck with your first official FBI case…I'm sure it will go better than your first unofficial CIA mission."

"It would almost have to."

"Good point, but to be fair last night was a success even if was a little rough around the edges." Frost pointed out. "I'll let you know when I have something on the Gardner."

"Frost…"

It was too late to protest, Frost hung up before Neal got the chance. Neal was still very interested in the Gardner case but he wasn't sure if Frost's help was the kind of help he needed. Peter would be less thrilled to crack into the cold case if Frost was involved as well. Knowing there was no stopping Frost once he got his sights set on something Neal didn't bother calling him back. He was fairly certain that no amount of him asking Frost not to interfere was going to help.

"I wonder if this is what it's like to work with me." Neal mused.

Pushing thoughts of Frost aside Neal gathered up the folder he'd created for the Nazca Skull case and tucked it away in his drawer. Pulling out his shoulder holster he slipped it on in preparation to go meet the Bone Baron. The leather harness fit better now that Peter had sized it for him, but it still didn't feel very natural. Before he could retrieve his weapon from the lock box in his drawer there was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

Neal had been expecting Peter to open the door but it was Agent Aubrey who was now standing in his doorway looking like he couldn't make up his mind if he actually wanted to talk to him or not. Peter had told him he was going to give the Bashiri case to Aubrey but he hadn't even imagined that the seasoned Agent would come to ask for help. Neal doubted that he and Aubrey would ever really have a good working relationship. He knew that Aubrey suspected him in a laundry list of past crimes and it didn't help that he was right on most of them even if the hard evidence had never been there.

"Hello." Neal greeted.

"Agent Caffrey…"

"Please, just 'Neal'." Neal corrected. "Come on in."

"Thank you." Aubrey stepped inside and closed the door.

"How can I help you?"

"Agent Burke just gave me a new case, did he tell you anything about it?"

"No, I came into the office a little late this morning."

"Rough night?" Aubrey asked sympathetically.

"Something like that."

"What were you up to last night?" Aubrey asked trying to sound casual. "You're looking a little worse for wear today."

"I have certainly felt better." Neal chuckled.

"You didn't answer my question." Aubrey said sounding more official.

"I was trying to politely suggest that it isn't any of your business." Neal replied with a tight smile.

"Something tells me that it is."

"How so?"

"Agent Dammers says he saw you outside the Old Post Office Building yesterday around seven getting into an SUV dressed like a member of SEAL Team Six."

"Did he now?"

"This isn't a big city like New York, Neal, this is DC. Congressmen can't keep their affairs secret because there are eyes everywhere. So…what were you doing?"

"You caught me, Aubrey." Neal confessed raising his hands up.

"I did?"

"Yes. I was teaming up with my CIA buddies for some clandestine paintball in the woods."

"…clandestine paintball?" Aubrey repeated confused.

"It's not exactly legal. We hunt each other down using military paint rounds that are not available to civilians. They pack one hell of a wallop. You should join us some night." Neal offered before wincing in exaggerated pain and leaning to right as though he was uncomfortable sitting. "I do have to warn you though that my friends are ex-military and they *very* good shots. Kicked my butt last night…or rather shot it. You should see the bruise on my as…"

"That's okay, Agent Caffrey," Aubrey interrupted quickly taking a step back "I believe you."

"It's all in good fun, and my hope is that it will make me a better shot or at the very least better at avoiding getting shot."

"Does Agent Burke know about all this?" Aubrey asked doubtfully.

"The CIA friends: yes. The paintball: not so much." Neal smiled sheepishly. "I would rather he not find out."

"Not a problem, I would prefer if he didn't hear about any of this conversation either."

"Deal."

"Thank you, Agent Caffrey."

"'Neal'."

"Thank you, Neal." Aubrey corrected.

Neal waited to see if Aubrey was going to say anything more. Aubrey looked like he was debating on if he wanted to add an apology for being suspicious of him or not. Neal was a little surprised how quickly Aubrey had been to try and connect him to the Bashiri case which told him just how far he was from gaining the trust of the other Agents. At the same time he had to admire Aubrey not only for being right but believing in his own convictions enough to go against his Section Chief and question his partner. The way Aubrey didn't want Peter knowing about this gave Neal the distinct impression that Peter had already had a conversation with him about it. In the end Aubrey simply turned to leave. He got to the point where he had his hand on the door handle before he thought better of leaving and turned back around.

"Neal..."

"Yes?"

"…I meant what I said about DC," Aubrey continued after a brief hesitation "there really are eyes everywhere here and the actions of one Agent can end up reflecting poorly on us all. What you do with your personal time really is your own business, but you need to be more careful in the future to ensure that it stays private."

"I will be. Thank you for the warning."

"It's not a warning, it's just advice."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"You were right, Peter."

"Of course I was…about?"

"Aubrey." Neal smiled brightly. "He does not like me, and he absolutely thinks I was responsible for the Bashiri break in."

"You are."

"That's besides the point." Neal shrugged. "I'm still impressed."

"You're not going to be so impressed when he actually finds evidence against you."

"That's still never happening." Neal replied confidently. "Out of sheer curiosity let me know when the illegal paintball story gets back to you."

"I've heard it already." Peter rolled his eyes.

"Wow," Neal made a show of looking at his wrist despite not wearing a watch "that took less than twenty minutes."

"It's a small office, Neal, you might want to refrain from discussing your ass with anyone around here if you don't want its condition to become common knowledge."

"I don't really care. Who told you? I doubt Aubrey came running back in here."

"No, Aubrey is driving to Baltimore. I over heard Dammers and Roteska talking about it when I was getting coffee."

"Peter…" Neal admonished.

"I wasn't eavesdropping, they just weren't being careful."

"I don't care about eavesdropping." Neal smiled. "You're Section Chief now, you shouldn't be getting your own coffee."

"Fine, I'll make you do it for me from now on."

"On second thought it does send a good message to your troops that you're willing to do your own menial tasks."

Peter just shook his head sadly, not willing to engage Neal further on this particular topic. Lounging casually in one of the chairs in front of Peter's desk Neal didn't seem to be suffering any after effects of the previous night other than occasionally rubbing at the cut on his arm through his onxy jacket. If not remembering what happened was bothering him still he wasn't showing it, he looked ready to simply move on to whatever was next. Considering they didn't really have many options Peter decided it was probably a good thing that Neal's enthusiasm hadn't been tempered. Although at the same time it meant he probably hadn't really learned to be more careful with Frost in the future either.

"So, quick lunch and then off to meet this 'Bone Baron' character?" Neal suggested.

"You're lead on this case so whatever you want."

"In that case definitely food first, I found a wonderful little hole in the wall Greek place just up the street. You need to try it before the health inspector shuts it down."

"Can we go somewhere that doesn't have Salmonella on the menu?"

"You'll be fine," Neal assured "I order off menu there anyway."

After an undeniably tasty meal of a highly seasoned mix of potatoes, vegetables, and what Peter prayed was lamb they were off to the outer limits of DC to speak with James Arvid, the Bone Baron. Neal had used the lunch break to bring Peter up to speed on everything he'd learned about the eccentric collector. Arvid had come from a rich family, and had expanded his wealth as a successful surgeon who had pioneered a new technique in cardiac surgery. However after the death of his wife ten years ago he had pulled away from the medical community, a year later he had started his collection and seemed to have devoted most of his time to that pursuit since.

Despite being talkative during lunch Neal had fallen into silence now that they were driving. Scratching at his arm he then started to rub circles into his right palm with his thumb. It was something he did when his hand was getting close to cramping up in an effort to keep it from getting out of control. Giving up on his hand Neal gingerly rubbed at his forearm again.

"Neal, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"That bad?" Peter asked knowingly.

"It's not terrible, I just don't have any tolerance to pain anymore." Neal sighed. "These days if I just cut myself shaving it bothers me for hours. Dr. Harris assures me it's going to get better in time, in fact he called me this morning asking if I could come in again so I'm going to assume you told Frost about this morning."

"I did." Peter admitted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have."

"It's okay, you were just concerned."

"I'm very concerned, but that's not why I told him. I was angry and looking to place some blame."

"Ah," Neal chuckled "hoping to frighten Frost into being a little more careful with me?"

"Something like that."

"Well, thank you, but if you're hoping to keep me out of trouble it's going to take more than a few stern words to Frost."

"Trust me I know keeping you out of trouble is an impossible task."

"I appreciate that you keep trying."

"It's what partners are for."

"Partners…I still like hearing you say that. Although you do realize that continuing to try to and accomplish the impossible is basically the definition of insanity." Neal teased.

"I am well aware."

Excited once more Neal laughed and started wondering out loud what the inside of the Bone Barron's house looked like. Peter knew that Neal often changed both moods and topics when he didn't want to talk about something, however this time around he genuinely seemed better for having the brief discussion. No longer mucking with his arm Neal used his hands to gesture while he talked without difficulty. Peter didn't understand how Neal's condition could turn on and off so rapidly, but he was gratefully that Neal was able to find some relief without the use of drugs.

"Wow," Neal comments as Peter pulled up to the large wrought iron gate that surrounded Arvid's home "very nice, this place is huge."

"He probably has a lawyer on retainer living in his house somewhere."

"I love a challenge."

"This might be as close as we get to Arvid toda…" Peter trailed off as the gate rolled open when approached rather than them having to request entry which Arvid could have easily denied.

"So far so good."

"You're not in the door yet," Peter noted as he parked in front of the large Colonial mansion "and we don't have anything close to enough evidence to get a warrant if he asks for one."

"Then hopefully he won't ask."

Looking confident that he'd be able to talk his way into Arvid's house Neal tightened his deep blue tie and stepped out of the car. Letting Neal take the lead Peter kept half a step back as Neal walked up to the large wooden front door.

"Check out the door knocker." Neal pointed out the large brass femur bone mounted upside down so that the ball end of the bone rested against the striker plate.

"Creepy."

"I kind of like it. He has a theme and he is sticking to it."

Using the brass knocker rather than the door bell Neal rapped the heavy brass bone against the door three times. Waiting for an answer Neal slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned all his weight onto his left hip. Peter cleared his throat gently and when Neal looked over at him he shook his head slightly. Realizing that Peter was pointing out that his posture was far too casual Neal pulled his hands back out and shifted his weight more evenly. First impressions were important when dealing with any suspect particularly one that held most of the cards like Arvid did. It used to be Neal's role to appear to be the nonthreatening outsider to put people at ease and off their guard, but he was no longer a consultant, he was an authority figure and he needed to look like one.

Neal was about to try the door knocker again when the door was opened by a distinguished older gentleman with bright silver hair dressed in a deep red smoking jacket with a white dress shirt accented by a black day ascot cravat. Neal was a little surprised that Arvid had answered the door himself, having expected there to be a butler living in the home. The unusual attire fit well on Arvid and matched what little of the dark interior of the house that Neal could see. Along with the vintage style clothing Arvid's slicked back hair, strongly angular features and broad shoulders gave an impression of being a man out of time, more fit to be the start of a movie set in 1940 Hollywood.

Arvid had appeared annoyed at first to have unannounced visitors however once he had seen Neal he had become instantly transfixed. Neal was used to people staring at him, but this was different, this was more the intense scrutiny of a jeweler trying to determine if a diamond was real. Usually after a moment people tended to realize they were being socially awkward with him and either looked away or at the very least made eye contact. Arvid just narrowed his eyes slightly as if trying to read some fine print as he turned his head slightly to the side and continued to inspect Neal's features.

"James Arvid?" Neal asked slightly unnerved by the intense inspection.

"You have an amazing mandibular ramus and base." Arvid stated rather than answered the question. "That truly is perfection."

"Thank you." Neal replied cordially. "You're James Arvid?"

"I am. You must be FBI." Arvid turned and gave Peter a better look. "At the very least you are."

"We both are." Neal assured taking out and displaying his badge. "Agent Neal Caffrey, this is my partner Special Agent Peter Burke."

"I take it this is about Joshua Fitz and his Nazca skulls."

"Can we come in and speak with you?" Neal asked evading answering directly.

"Do you have a warrant?" Arvid asked raising a silver eyebrow doubtfully.

"Do we need one?" Neal asked with a bright smile.

"Usually I'd say 'yes'," Arvid announced before pausing for effect "but for you two I'll make an exception…please, Gentlemen, come in."

Arvid didn't step to the side, instead he just retreated back into the dimly lit house expecting his guests to follow. Neal went to do so without hesitation however he stopped when Peter reached out and snagged the elbow of his jacket to stop him. Neal looked over his shoulder at Peter who had his brow furrowed.

"What the hell was that about?" Peter asked quietly.

"What?"

"'You have an amazing mandibular ramus'?" Peter repeated Arvid's odd statement.

"Oh, that." Neal smiled. "Just a compliment."

"A compliment?"

"He likes my jaw line or rather the bone underneath it."


	16. Chapter 16

Note: Hello all! Sorry this chapter took so long a *lot* of research went into it. I left a few things for you guys to figure out/look up on your own, if you get stuck on any of them just ask me and I'll go into more detail. ;) Now then let's have some fun with science!

This chapter is coming to you from New York city as I am visiting!

Chapter Sixteen

"How did my life get so…weird?"

"Just think of it like a museum, Peter."

Peter gave Neal a doubtful look before reaching into his jacket and snapping off the strap that kept his gun secure in its holster. Neal doubted that they would need to use lethal force to defend themselves against Arvid, but he had to admit it was hard to not be on edge surrounded by the vast macabre collection.

Arvid had left them in the front room while he excused himself to change into something more suitable for entertaining guests. Neal had taken a breath to assure him that wasn't necessary but stopped himself when he realized that it would mean having a chance to look around unsupervised. Clearly Arvid wasn't nervous about having two Federal Agents loose in his home, although that didn't automatically mean he had nothing to hide. It just meant that he didn't keep anything he didn't want people seeing out in the open.

What he did have on display was impressive. Peter was currently looking up at a fully articulated zebra skeleton that was rearing up as a skeletal lion pounced on its hindquarters with its toothy skull open wide to bite into the missing zebra flesh. Arvid's set up was very much like a museum with pillars around the room with displays on them each with a brass name plate that described the piece and where it originated from. The detail put into everything gave Neal the impression that somewhere Arvid had a giant ledger that catalogued each item in his collection in further detail. The real question was whether or not he had a second ledger for items acquired illegally.

Hands back in his pockets Neal wandered up to a few of the displays. The first was a small glass case with a red velvet pillow inside that had three tiny bones resting on top of it. The label identified them as the small inner bones of the human ear: malleus, incus, and stapes. Sitting next to the delicate bones was a dime to emphasize just how small the bones were, all three could easily fit on top of the thin coin with plenty of room to spare. The next display was a taxidermy work with four small sparrows reduced to bone all perched delicately on a branch set in a wooden base. One bird's beak was open in a silent song, one was just resting, the other had its stick like wing bones spread read to fly, the last had its beak pointed down towards its chest as though preening the feathers that once adorned the bird.

The navy blue painted walls were crowded various shadow boxes full of other full animal skeletons as well as single bone specimens. Some of the items were easy to identify: fish, frogs, birds, snakes, each with its own brass plate. Others needed an explanation beyond just the label such as a collection of a dozen thin slightly curved bones with a variety of lengths that was simply labeled 'Assorted Baculum'. Remembering the word Neal decided he would look up what it meant later. The far right wall was covered floor to ceiling with a lattice work of wooden cubby holes of different sizes made of fine teak. Each hole held a skull of some description mostly animal but a few Paleolithic looking skulls of human ancestors were mixed in as well.

Peter had stepped up to a pedestal near the wall of skulls and put his hand on his hips as he inspected it. Neal joined him and looked down at the item that had caught Peter's interest. Neal was taken a little off guard at first at the human skull mounted on a thick metal rod that past through the bone just under the left eye and protruded from the top of the skull. The jaw was left hanging open giving the skull an appearance of a grin despite its painful fate.

"This is not normal." Peter muttered. "Arvid is insane."

"I don't know about that there is a certain artistry to his collection."

"This isn't art," Peter said distastefully looking at the impaled skull "this is gruesome."

"I think that's Phineas Gage."

"Right," Peter nodded in agreement but still obviously unimpressed by the fact that he had to look at Gage "the railroad worker with tamping rod that went through his head."

"He changed a lot about what scientist know about personality and the brain when friends and family notices that 'Phineas was no longer Phineas' after he recovered from his injury. His tragedy lead to advances in thinking about what it is to be human."

"Still a disturbing display to have his head on a pike in the front room."

"It's just a reproduction, Agent Burke." Arvid's voice joined the conversation. "Although the real Phineas is on display at the Warren Anatomical Museum at Harvard, I have visited him several times. He's a good listener."

Neal glanced at Peter silently asking him if he felt Arvid was kidding about that last comment or not. Peter just shrugged slightly showing that he could believe it either way with Arvid.

"It's a very impressive collection you have here, Mr. Arvid." Neal commented honestly.

"Thank you, there is a lot more to see. Come, we'll take a quick tour through on our way to the study."

Having changed into a more formal jacket and tie attire Arvid lead the way through his expansive cluttered home. There was so much to look at that it was difficult to remember that they were in someone's house rather than walking through a curated museum. The next room held several full human skeletons articulated into various poses including one that was casually leaning against the mantle piece with his bony elbow. Many of the bones on display showed some kind of pathology, either healed fractures or abnormal growths. Once skull in particular had a spiked growth coming out of one side that strongly resembled a horn.

As they passed through another room of medical marvels Neal's eye was caught by a large brightly polished stone sitting on top of a mahogany antique chest of drawers against the wall and he paused to inspect it closer. The piece almost looked like it was a quarter section out of the base of a small tree with both its rounded pie shape and the fact that the outside edge was dull and rough in texture as compared to bright smooth surface on the top. Vivid pink, purple, red, and yellow cells of color divided by dark veins radiated out across the top splayed out like a peacock fan. Of everything Neal had seen in the house so far this was the first piece that didn't look like bone.

"Like that?" Arvid asked having noticed that his company had lagged behind.

"It's beautiful." Neal admired.

"It's one of my favorite pieces, Agent Caffrey." Arvid said proudly. "That is dinosaur gem bone, a piece of a vertebra to be specific. It is a kind of fossil where each cell fossilized with a precious mineral instead of common stone."

Despite his love of fossils Peter's attention wasn't on the dinosaur. He had caught sight of the pictures on the wall above the dresser where the bone was on display. At first it looked like images from inside a stone hewn chapel. However it didn't take long for first impression to fade and the cold realization to set in that the walls were constructed with skulls set in mortar. Long bones made up the edges of the walls. Other photos revealed two desiccated skeletal corpses hanging from the ceiling one of which appeared to be that of a child.

"What is this?" Peter asked not sure he wanted an answer.

"These are pictures from my pilgrimage to the Capela dos Ossos, the Chapel of Bones in Evora, Portugal. Built in the 16th century by a Franciscan monk the bones of nearly 5,000 corpses decorate the walls."

Peter shook his head slightly, not understanding the draw Arvid had to death. Undisturbed by the judgment Arvid continued towards the drawing room. The large doorway into the study had a polished mental plate above it that a latin phrase deeply embossed into.

"'Memento mori'." Neal read the large brass panel. "'Remember that you have to die'."

"You know Latin, Agent Caffrey." Arvid said impressed.

"I know the phrase in its artistic context, memento mori are paintings or other icons created to remind the viewer that earthly pleasures are fleeting and try to focus one's thoughts onto the prospect of an afterlife."

"'Remember Man that you are dust and unto dust you shall return'." Arvid quoted in a somber tone.

"Danse macabre: death comes to all no matter your station the Dance of Death unites us all there are none who escape it and none who can stop it." Neal added.

"Yes, exactly." Arvid agreed enthusiastically. "You may be the only person to even hint that they understand that I surround myself with bones to remind myself that I have no control over death."

"A difficult lesson for a doctor to remember at times I'm sure."

"Very much so."

Arvid stared up at the Latin phrase for a moment, lost in thought, before stepping through the doorway. Even once inside the study the show was far from over. Directly to Neal's left was a femur bone that had a large hole through the center of the end near the knee and was cut clean off about half way up the shaft of the bone leaving no characteristic 'ball' end. Once again Arvid pounced on the chance to explain one of his possessions.

"The Civil War brought about an estimated 60,000 amputations such as this one, you can see where the bullet went through and where the femur was sawn through to remove the limb. It only took surgeons four to six minutes to remove a leg they got so practice at it. Luckily despite what Hollywood often says they did have anesthesia in the field usually chloroform and morphine. These specimens are very rare since most of the ambulated limbs were packaged in barrels of whiskey and sent to the Army Medical Museum which is now the National Museum of of Health and Medicine for future study."

Before Neal could react to the gory history lesson, not that he had much to add, Arvid brought Neal's attention to a scapula that had been mounted to a small wooden base. Neal instinctively cringed at the site of the round musket ball that was lodged into the center of the large shoulder blade. The shattered bone had pulled itself back together and had even started to grow around the intrusive bullet. Neal's shoulder began to ache with sympathy for the dead owner of the bone he was looking at. He had never really given much thought as to what his injured scapula looked like these days, but he was sure that if Arvid got a look at it he'd instantly be able to diagnose the damage as a 'GSW'.

"This man survived a gun shot wound to the shoulder, the bone even healed around the bullet. The human body is a miracle, although this poor gentleman was probably in pain for the rest of his life."

Feeling increasingly uncomfortable Neal reached up and grip down on his wrist to make sure that it didn't start cramping. Peter had been doing his best to stay back and let Neal take the lead on their interactions with Arvid, but he stayed on high alert and flashed Neal a look of concern. Neal gave Peter a reassuring smile. Arivd didn't notice the silent interaction between the pair, his attention had already been drawn away to the large desk at the far end of the room that held a single bone. The almost delicate looking femur bone was the only one that held no label. The stand it was sitting on was made of mahogany with gold fittings to hold the bone up off the table. The long shaft of the bone was unnaturally thickened and bulbous in the middle with some kind of boney growth.

"And this is the bone that started it all." Arvid said quietly as he reached out towards but did not quite touch the bone. "Primary bone cancer is quite rare, less than one percent of all cancers, usually it's other cancers that spread to the bone. Not for Jessica, her cancer started right here, Ewings Sacrcoma…extraordinarily rare in adults and harder to treat. She had a ten percent chance of living past five years, she didn't even make it two."

"I'm sorry for your loss." Neal replied gently after a silent pause. Even though those words had never made him feel any better about Kate's death he didn't know what else to say.

Peter looked down at Arvid's dead spouse's bone without comment.

"I know what you're thinking, Agent Burke, and I will be the first to admit that my bone obsession isn't healthy." Arvid said. "I shouldn't surround myself with the dead if I want to remain in the company of the living."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Psychosis." Avrid admitted freely. "Much like any hoarder the thought of being separated from my collection causes me great anxizity and worse than that I don't even want help so I will never get it."

"You have an amazing amount of insight into your disorder for someone who doesn't want treatment." Neal noted.

"Like I said, even though the death obsession separates me from people it still makes me happy to collect, it's hard to want help against something that makes you happy." Avrid smiled sadly. "Although the notion of 'elephant graveyards' is a myth it is true that when an elephant in the wild encounters the carcass or bones of another elephant they will caress them with their trunks paying particular interest to the ivory. No one really knows why but some say touching the bones seems to bring them comfort from their grief…it certainly helps mine."

As if proving his point Arvid reached out and ran his fingers delicately along the length of the cancer riddled bone. A slight smile touched the corner of Arvid's lips as he connected in some way with the memory of his lost wife through the physical contact with her remains. Peter shifted his weight and silently encouraged Neal to get to what they had come here for with a slight nod in Arvid's direction.

"Mr. Arvid, I apologize, but if we could talk about Fi…"

"Are you injured, Agent Caffrey?" Arvid interrupted suddenly.

"What?"

"There is blood on your cuff." Arvid pointed out.

"Oh," Neal brought his wrist up inspected the bright crimson stain "it's just a cut."

"Do you want me to take a look, I am a doctor after all."

"You let your medical license expire eight years ago."

"Someone did their homework." Arvid smiled, his previous dark mood over his lost wife seemed to have been lifted by the prospect of having a patient again. "However I doubt simple wound care has changed much in that time."

"I'm fine."

"You say that, but you're about to drip blood on my eighteenth century furniture. At least accept something to wrap it with."

With the blood stain slowly expanding Neal agreed to the offer. He shrugged off his jacket as Arvid disappeared into another room. Peter's breath hissed across his teeth as Neal revealed the sleeve of his once white shirt was marred with crimson. The bleeding wasn't too bad, the wicking properties of the shirt made it look worse than it was. Neal rolled up his ruined sleeve, he had broken several of the small stitches near his wrist when he'd gripped down on it while looking at the broken scapula bone causing the wound to seep.

Arvid returned with a wet cloth, a roll of gauze, and a small roll of tape. Neal thanked him for the items and cleaned away the blood. Arvid leaned in and inspected the injury with medical interest. With the area clean Neal wrapped the gauze around the wound before accepting Arvid's help with taping it in place.

"How's the other guy doing?" Arvid asked conversationally.

"The other guy?" Neal asked confused.

"Clearly you didn't lose this fight, so the other guy must be in pretty rough shape."

"Oh, no." Neal shook his head as he slipped his jacket back on. "The 'other guy' was just a bit of fence that I tangled in, not someone I tangled with."

"That lie might work on a layman, but I'm a surgeon, Agent Caffrey. I know what happens when well honed steel meets flesh. That's a knife wound, and not the kind one accidentally gets in the kitchen." Arvid stated confidently. "Don't worry, I understand that whatever happened is 'classified'."

"More than you know." Peter agreed darkly.

"Intrigue, I love it." Arvid smiled. "I have to admit, Agents, I have not enjoyed having living company this much in a very long time. Perhaps I should entangle myself in illegal actives more often, I certainly get enough offers."

"Care to elaborate on that?" Neal asked hopefully.

"When you are known as the 'Bone Baron' a lot of less than desirable people come out of the woodwork looking to sell you 'one of a kind' items, more often than not they've been illegally obtained. Recently a man calling himself 'Edward Davis' approached me with a Nazca skull for sale, he even brought it along. He had all the necessary documentation however I knew they were forgeries."

"How did you know that? Fitz hasn't made the theft public knowledge. It could have just been a coincidence that Davis approached you for a sale and that his skull was legitimate."

"A day doesn't go by that someone doesn't offer me something, so yes it could have been a coincidence, but it wasn't. I knew his papers were fake because I recognized the skull as being one from the pair that Fitz owned. I have coveted his two skulls for quite some time. They are more far more rare and valuable than even Fitz knows."

"What makes them so valuable?"

"Both skulls show the same rare deformity: Saethre-Chotzen syndrome a kind of acrocephalopolysyndactyly."

"That is not a word I'd want to end up with on a spelling bee." Neal smiled.

"It's a tongue twister for sure. It causes premature closure of some of the cranial sutures. It's easier to identify in the normal population because it causes a cone shape to the skull."

"But the Nazca skulls are all cone shaped through human intervention."

"And these two skulls were no different their natural cone shaped heads were further enhanced by binding, however there are more subtle changes in the facial structure that points towards the two skulls Fitz has having Saethre-Chotzen syndrome. Which also means the two skulls belong to brothers, most likely twins. They would have been revered in life as having a special connection to the Gods since they were born with many of the traits that the Nazca desired."

"You must have been tempted by such a rare skull." Neal pointed out.

"I was. In fact I didn't exactly tell Davis 'no'. I asked him if he had any others, joking that two heads were better than one. He said he might be able to find another one if I gave him a few days."

"So he's going to be back?"

"He didn't bring both skulls along the first time because he's not stupid and he figured that I'd instantly identify them as belonging to Fitz if he presented them as a pair. I offered him an embarrassing amount of money if he could get me both, hinting that I didn't care so much about their origin. I am confident that I will hear from him later today or early tomorrow."

"That's good news." Neal smiled.

"Wait," Peter finally spoke up "I have to ask. Why are you telling us this? You didn't contact the authorities when Davis first approached you, you clearly had intent to buy them despite knowing they were stolen. So why tell us about it now?"

"To keep me from going through with it." Arvid confessed. "I already told you that my collection is a compulsion, I have managed to keep my collection one hundred percent legal, but I have never faced temptation this strong before."

"Were you planing on calling us?" Neal asked.

"No." Arvid shook his head. "Honestly I would have gone through with the sale if you two hadn't arrived in time to save me."

"You had to have known that you'd be the first on the suspect list as at the very least a potential buyer." Peter pointed out.

"I did, but you wouldn't believe how good my lawyers are." Arvid shrugged. "I may have lost the skulls to the law but I would have just been seen as the victim of a con artist not an active participant in the crime. So it would have been low risk to me to buy them."

"The skulls would have haunted you even if you had managed to keep them." Neal added.

"Very true, which is why I see it as providence that you two came to give me a nudge in the right direction."

"Does this mean you'll help us catch Davis?"

"Under one condition."

"Name it." Neal replied without thinking.

"If you want my help with Davis, I want your mandible for my collection in return."

"Oh." Neal said uncomfortably leaning away slightly as he reached up and rubbed at his jawline. "I…uh…I'm still kind of using it. I suppose if I die before…"

"I don't mean the actual bone, Agent Caffrey." Arvid chuckled. "There have been wonderful advances in 3-D printing, I just want a replica. Have you had an MRI lately?"

"Just last night in fact."

"Did that 'fence' hit you on the head?" Arvid asked with a wink.

"Something like that."

"In any case I will gladly trade you copies of your MRI for assistance catching Davis. Deal?"

"Peter?" Neal looked to Peter for permission.

"They are your medical records, Neal, do whatever you want with them."

"Then I guess I'm going to become part of your permanent collection, Mr. Arvid."

"It will be a treasured item I assure you, Agent Caffrey." Arvid smiled. "I can have a copy made for you if you'd like your own Memento Mori."

"No thank you. I prefer a 'Memento vivere' outlook."


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I hope you are all still enjoying, I promise that I'm actually going to get to the Gardner heist at some point in time! Just kinda got to iron out things with my 'team' here...Frost and Peter don't really seem ready to work together on a case yet. ;)

Chapter Eighteen

"Arvid was certainly helpful." Neal announced brightly as he sat down in one of the chairs in Peter's office. "Looks like I'm going to be solving my first official case as an Agent in record time."

"Don't count your convicts before you catch them." Peter warned.

"Clever." Neal smiled. "You come up with that yourself?"

"My mentor taught it to me."

"I'm not sure how I feel about having you as my 'mentor'."

"That's fine, I'm not sure how I feel about having you as a 'protégé'.

"Touché."

Settling deeper into the leather chair Neal looked tired but also seemed unwilling to call it a day. He also didn't look like he was going to get any more actual work done either. Neal seemed perfectly content to just relax in Peter's office they way he used to when he was waiting for Peter to finish paperwork. Neal didn't seem to realize yet that he had paperwork of his own to file. Even with Arvid's help setting up a sting operation to catch Davis wasn't going to happen on its own. Peter was about to tell Neal that he should go look into requisitioning the surveillance equipment they would need when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in."

"Hey, Chief, I…" Aubrey stopped both speaking and physically in his tracks when he caught sight of Neal. "Sorry, I'll come back later."

"No, stay." Neal offered as he got to his feet. "I need to go figure out how to get surveillance equipment, does the Art Crime department even have any of its own?"

"No, you have to beg it off another department, I suggest you try Violent Crimes or White Collar, don't bother asking Organized Crime." Aubrey said in a tone that suggested there was a story to be heard involving him and Organized Crime. "We're kind of the Black Sheep department. Art Crime tends to be more of an after the fact type work so we don't do surveillance or sting operations very often, but it would be nice if we had a basic kit of our own."

"I might know someone who can arrange that."

"Neal, no." Peter said firmly.

"It can't hurt to ask."

"Go talk to the other departments." Peter ordered.

"You're no fun." Neal huffed. "Good luck with him, Agent Aubry. Just a tip for the future: if you're ever bringing him bad news it's best to do right after lunch when he's still a little logy from eating."

"Uh…" Aubrey said uncomfortably.

"Neal." Peter growled.

"I'm leaving." Neal assured.

Peter narrowed his eyes at Neal as he leaned in and whispered something to Aubrey on his way out. Not speaking quietly enough Peter clearly heard Neal assuring Aubrey that he'd get the department some tech that would make Organized Crime green with envy. Furrowing his brow Aubrey looked at a loss as to what to do next or even why he'd come into Peter's office in the first place. Much more of a traditionalist Aubrey wasn't used to anyone being so casual around a direct superior let alone a Section Chief.

"Ignore him." Peter advised.

"That's hard to do."

"It gets easier with time." Peter assured.

"Was that blood on his cuff?"

"He's fine." Peter said dismissively. "How was Baltimore?"

"Very interesting." Aubrey said jumping on the chance to talk about work rather than Neal. "This was definitely a targeted hit for that one painting, there were far more valuable items on the first floor that they didn't touch or even look at."

"How do you know they didn't even look at them?"

"I brought my dog River with me."

"I didn't realize your dog was part of our K-9 unit."

"She's not officially FBI, but she's trained in search in rescue, I do volunteer searches with her for lost hikers. When I read that the suspect ran off into the woods I thought she might be able to find something and she did. She gave me the suspect's route through the house, which was from the dog door directly up the stairs to the painting. Then outside she lead me through the woods to this…"

Aubrey handed over the folder that he'd had tucked under his arm. Peter tried to hide his reaction to the first photo but he automatically tensed at the sight of a bloodied tactical knife laying half covered in the leaf litter with a small yellow flag next to it proclaiming its evidence number. The handle surface was rough, but there was a chance that a print could be pulled from the area on the blade where the user would have gripped it to open it. The blade was slightly bent as if it had been embedded in something and then had forced applied to it.

Peter had little doubt in his mind that the blood was Neal's, this was exactly the kind of weapon that would cause the clean arcing cut in his forearm. The question now was who had welded it and why didn't Neal remember any of it. Going through the rest of the photos showed all the signs of a violent struggle. The leaf litter was kicked up and the ground scuffed where at least two men had fought. One picture showed a tree with a small chunk taken out of it at chest height. The attacker must have tried to sink the knife into Neal's heart after slashing at him and when Neal proved too quick the blade ended up in the tree. Someone must have knocked the knife free afterward where it had gotten lost in the litter on the dark night.

"Hard to know exactly what happened, but a fight of some sort obviously occurred." Aubrey said as Peter looked at the last photo. "Could have been an argument between partners that got messy, or perhaps someone ambushing our original thief to get the painting without doing the heavy lifting. In any case there is very little blood at the scene suggesting that both parties walked away. River lead us to the road, but there were no usable tire marks."

Knowing Frost and Bryant Peter wasn't as confident as Aubrey that everyone involved walked out on their own accord. There were plenty of ways to kill a man without leaving large pools of blood behind. Or Frost could have simply decided to take whoever it had been prisoner, one who wouldn't have any hope of a trial. Peter could see Neal reacting poorly to either scenario, particularly if the attacker happened to be someone he knew from his past. When Peter thought about it he realized it was entirely possible that Neal had ended up injured trying to stop a fight to protect someone from Frost and Bryant rather having been the primary target of the attack in the first place. Neal had learned some basic fighting and self defense in the Academy but he would have been no match against Bryant or even Frost if he had decided to try and go up against them. Frost and Bryant were both ex-Special Forces and either one of them could have easily knocked Neal senseless or subdued him while the other drugged him to the point of amnesia. Maybe there had never been a third person, perhaps something had sparked an argument between Frost and Neal that had gotten out of hand, Bryant had already proven with Peter in the past how quick he was to draw a weapon when his partner was threatened for any reason. The knife hinted towards a larger number of scenarios out in the woods but none of them pointed towards Neal accidentally giving himself a concussion and now he had proof to confront Frost with.

With a cold flash of realization Peter ground his teeth in frustration when he realized that the bloody knife was actually a double edged sword. Testing the blood and finding out it belonged to Neal was proof that Frost had lied to them, but it was also evidence against Neal himself. Without Frost's help to tamper with the lab results Neal wasn't going to be an Agent or even a free man for much longer. Confronting Frost for the truth wasn't going to solve anything, he still held all the cards. Right now they were both going to have to work together on damage control to make sure that Aubrey didn't get any further than this in his investigation.

"Chief?" Aubrey asked when Peter's extended silence along with the fact that he was grinding his teeth made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry." Peter apologized. "Any fingerprints on the knife?"

"No such luck. I send the blood in, but Lab told me the turn around time is going to be about two weeks. There's a bit of a back up, and known homicides get top priority. I've been looking to see if anyone has sought medical care for a stab wound in the surrounding hospitals, but so far no luck."

"Right. Keep at it." Peter said as genuinely as he could. "This is good work, Agent Aubrey, thank you."

"Everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, just a more complicated case than I thought it would be."

"I know we like to get these high profile ones solved quickly to keep from getting the ax when budget cuts come around...I'll see if I can call in some favors and get a rush on that blood."

"Thank you."

"I will let you know as soon as I hear back. Hopefully whoever it belongs to is in the database already."

Peter just nodded and handed the case file back to Aubrey. As much as he would never admit it out loud he had been nearly as confident as Neal had been that Aubrey wouldn't find anything. Still not sure what to do with new evidence against Frost's lies Peter waited for Aubrey's footsteps retreat down the hall before pulling out his cell phone to call Frost. Even if he didn't try to pry the truth out of Frost he still needed him to know that the blood from the scene had been found. The phone rang six times without being answered or going to voice mail. Peter was just about to hang up when the line opened, instead of a customary greeting there was a sharp clatter and the distant sound of Frost swearing signifying that he had dropped the phone while trying to answer.

"Peter?" Frost asked in a perfect mixture of surprise and concerned. "What's going on?"

"We need to talk."

"Is it important? Never mind, of course it is, you'd never call me just to chat." Frost rambled. "However...uh, now isn't really the best time for a deep conversation. Tomor…"

"This can't wait."

"Alright," Frost sighed in defeat "what's on your mind, Agent?"

"No, we need to meet in person."

"In person?" Frost repeated warily. "Now?"

"Now." Peter confirmed.

"Uh…okay, um…" Frost hesitated sounding disoriented. "I suppose…"

"I know I don't have high enough clearance to even know where your office is, I can meet you outside the Lincoln Me…"

"I'm not in the office today," Frost interrupted "I'm home, Cross Square Apartments number 812. It's not far from the Federal Building, North end of Buzzard Point across from Fort McNair. Can you give me like…an hour?"

"I will be there in fifteen minutes."

"Okay. I…uh…I should be able to find pants by then." Frost commented, seemingly talking more to himself than to Peter.

"Frost?"

Peter didn't get a response as Frost disconnected the call. Peter couldn't decide if Frost hadn't known the call was still active during his last statement or if it had been a strategic move to keep Peter from rushing over. Frost had to know that this confrontation was going to be about Neal and Peter wouldn't put it past him to try and buy more time to help him come up with a new story by pretending to be in a compromised position of some description. At the same time Frost had sounded a bit off from the moment he answered the phone and there was no telling what he did with his down time. Unsure of what to make of the brief conversation Peter looked at his watch.

"Alright, twenty minutes…just in case."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Long chapter is long, and *very* difficult to write! I'm pleased you guys have been enjoying this story because I kinda feel like I'm just playing around with my characters like a child with some action figures while I avoid having to come up with an actual 'plot', which is lots of fun for me but not really getting the story anywhere. But I'm committed to the idea of a plot and I will be starting one any chapter now...promise.

Chapter Eighteen

"Frost?" Peter asked as he knocked on the apartment door again. "Are you in there?"

"Coming." Frost called back.

"Please tell me you found your pants."

"I did." Frost beamed as he opened the door. "And it only took me two tries to get them on right."

Peter's breath automatically hissed across his teeth when he caught sight of Frost. Without his prosthetic in place Frost's empty eye socket was a startling and unsettling sight, particularly since Peter wasn't expecting it. Despite the fact that Peter recovered quickly Frost had noticed the look of shock that had briefly crossed Peter's face but it took him another second to figure it out. Gasping in horror himself Frost quickly threw his hand up to cover both his eyes. This was also the first time Peter had seen Frost in a short sleeved shirt which revealed several large white scars across his dark forearm as well as a set of scars that encircled his wrists.

"I…I'm sorry." Frost apologized clumsily. "I take my glass out when I'm not expecting company. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, I know it's hard to look at. Bryant complains any time I'm not wearing it." Frost spread his fingers just enough to look at Peter with his intact eye. "I have a patch around here somewhere, come in, please, sit down. I'll get my patch, just don't call me Nick Fury."

"Who?"

"Never mind." Frost chuckled. "Please, make yourself at home. I...uh...I'll be right back."

Peter stepped just inside the apartment and closed the door behind himself as he watched Frost hobbled off unsteadily towards the short hallway that lead to his bedroom. Peter furrowed his brow as Frost nearly lost his balance and had to put his hand out on the wall to steady himself the rest of the way. Frost always had a slight limp but right now he looked as though he could hardly bear any weight through his right foot. If it was an act it was a good one, and it was working as Peter was finding it difficult right now to be as angry at 'Frost the disabled veteran' as he had been at 'Frost the underhanded CIA Agent' while he had been driving over to his apartment.

Left alone Peter looked around Frost's nearly barren apartment. The small front room and open kitchen of Frost's apartment looked like it had been purchased as a package deal from Ikea rather than put together with a personal touch. The kitchen counter only held a coffee maker, which had a half full pot of what smelled like freshly brewed coffee along with a single white mug sitting in the stainless steel sink. There was a standard gray couch against the wall that showed almost no wear. In front of it was a glass and metal coffee table that was completely barren, no mail, books, or even drink coasters. The night stand next to the couch matched the plain coffee table with a small lamp sitting on it. There was no tv, just a small waist high side table with a single drawer up against the far wall across from the couch.

Unlike Neal's apartment that had been carefully designed to be a work of art in its own right, or Peter's townhome that was decorated with a focus on family and memories, Frost's apartment was eerily sterile. There was only a single display that gave any hint about the man who inhabited the space. Peter walked over to the wall across from the couch and looked up at the set of American flags neatly folded into the traditional triangle with only the blue field showing, each placed in a cherry wood and glass shadow box and hung on the wall. There were seven flags on display, each with an engraved name on a silver plaque set in the wood. Four of the names had ranks as well and Peter guessed that they belonged to the men on Frost's team that had been killed in Afghanistan. Of the remaining three names one instantly caught Peter's full attention.

"'FBI Special Agent David Edward Siegel'."

Peter's stomach twisted as he read the plaque memorializing his lost Agent who had been murdered by Frost's rouge operative. Peter didn't recognize the other two names, one belonging to a woman, but he had to assume that Frost held himself at least somewhat responsible for each death that he was honoring on his wall. Bryant had mentioned to Peter before that Frost deeply regretted Siegel's death, as simple as the memorial was it helped Peter believe that at least that much of the convoluted story behind Rebecca had been the truth.

Without really thinking about it Peter reached out and pulled open the drawer on the side table that was under the flags. There were almost a dozen small black velvet boxes tucked away inside the wooden drawer. Opening one at random Peter found a bright Purple Heart medal with a small bronze oak leaf cluster pinned to the purple suspension ribbon. Purple Hearts like all medals were only awarded once, but subsequent qualifying injuries earned the recipient an oak leaf cluster.

Looking at the medal Peter first assumed that it was connected to the events that cost Frost his team and his eye. However Peter remembered that Frost had been in the CIA at the time as part of a paramilitary operation and the award was strictly a military one, meaning the Heart and oak leaf signified two other times Frost had thrown himself up against an enemy of the US and paid for it in his own blood. With the open box still in hand Peter glanced up at the shadow boxed flags. For all of Frost's bravado and confidence Peter found it very telling that in his home he kept his tragedies on display and his accomplishments tucked away.

"It's been a long time since that's seen any daylight."

Peter jolted at the sound of Frost's voice. Looking over he found Frost had put on his eye patch. He had his hand on the corner of the hallway casually but Peter got a feeling he was actively using the wall to keep himself upright.

"That little leaf ended my career as a Ranger, luckily CIA paramilitary was still interested in some what damaged goods." Frost commented conversationally as he limped closer. "Although considering what happened later I probably should have stayed retired, but not all dogs want to be taught new tricks."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" Peter started as he closed the box and placed it back in the drawer.

"It's okay," Frost interrupted with a warm smile "when you invite a Federal Agent into your home you have to expect them to poke about. Particularly when that Agent doesn't trust you as far as he can throw you."

"You have been lying to me basically every chance you get." Peter pointed out. "Like about last night."

"You found the knife, didn't you?" Frost asked with a guilty wince.

"Agent Aubrey did, yes."

"Damn it," Frost chuckled ruefully "that sucks."

"'Sucks'?" Peter repeated distastefully, irritated by both Frost's word choice and casual response to the serious allegation.

"Bryant wanted to go back and try harder to find it, I told him not to worry about it…long story short I owe him a hundred bucks now."

"Long story short: Neal is going back to prison." Peter snarled bitterly even though he knew there was no real danger of that actually happening.

"Peter, come on," Frost chastised mockingly "you know me better than that. I switched out Neal's DNA file in the database the day he entered the Academy. Your Agent Aubrey is good but he's still never going to connect Neal to any of this."

"So the blood on the knife is Neal's." Peter stated darkly rather than asked.

"Peter…"

Finally seeming to taking the conversation seriously Frost's expression and tone had sobered, but when he'd gone to take a step towards Peter he'd cried out sharply in pain as his right leg buckled. Peter instinctively reached out and caught Frost around the waist to keep him from falling. Frost put his hand up on Peter's shoulder to help support himself as he panted heavily with a slightly unfocused look in his eye. When Frost didn't recover quickly Peter slipped in under his arm and helped him over to the couch. With Frost so close Peter could smell Frost's breath and instantly noticed that it was laced with something other than coffee. Peter sat Frost down on the couch but remained standing himself, moving back to put the coffee table between himself and Frost.

"Thank you." Frost said gratefully.

"Have you been drinking?"

Rather than answer Frost hesitated before he just sighed and reached over to the drawer in the nightstand next to the couch and pulled out a half empty bottle of Glenfiddich 21 whiskey. At nearly two hundred dollars a bottle it wasn't the usual spirit of choice for an alcoholic, but Frost certainly hadn't been slugging it back in celebration of anything or even just recreationally, it was barely five and he was about two sheets to the wind. Frost stared at the bottle in his hands looking like he was contemplating opening it. Shaking his head in an ill advised attempt to clear it Frost put the bottle down on the coffee table.

It had taken a most of Frost's strength to try to appear sober to his guest before, but now that he was caught he dropped the pretense as he leaned his head back and moaned slightly against his spinning head. Taking a deep breath Frost brought his head back up and forced himself to focus on Peter once more.

"I drink the expensive to keep me from drinking it when I don't need it." Frost explained. "I don't drink often, but today just happened to be one of the days that I needed it."

Feeling distinctly like he was being conned by an injured wing act Peter just stared coldly at Frost waiting for an explanation on the bloody knife rather than a rationalization of his drinking habits. Frost took a breath like he was going to speak several times without actually coming up with what he was going to say. Frustrated that he was only going to be lied to Peter turned to leave.

"The knife belonged to Carl Matheson." Frost announced.

Peter froze and turned his attention back to Frost. He didn't know who Matheson was but Frost almost desperate sounding tone suggested that he was telling the truth and was possibly ready to admit to the real story of what had happened.

"He sliced Neal's arm when he was trying to get the painting away from him." Frost continued. "He's an American, but he's spent the past fifteen years in Europe and the Middle East selling his services to the highest bidder. Mostly high end theft, but not above being a gun for hire if the price is right or extortion if the opportunity arose."

"What happened?"

"Matheson was in the woods outside the Bashiri home, I doubt he was waiting for someone else to break in, we just got to the job a little earlier than he did. Matheson would not have jumped off the balcony, he would have just killed Mr. Bashiri. Neal did jump even though I ordered him not to, and then for reasons I still don't understand Neal bolted for the woods away from us rather than coming back to the rendezvous point."

"So Bryant didn't save him from the pool?"

"No, but he did save him from Matheson." Frost said before reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked like he was heavily regretting his drinking before he even got to the hangover stage.

"Frost?"

"That coffee did nothing to sober me up." Frost complained. "Bryant is going to kill me for telling you all this."

"Where is Matheson now?"

"Dead." Frost answered flatly. "When we heard the commotion Bryant tore off and when he found them fighting he attacked Matheson."

"And killed him?"

"I know what you're thinking." Frost said defensively. "But Bryant did the right thing. Matheson had slammed Neal into a tree hard enough to knock him unconscious. It was dark, there was blood, Bryant had to neutralize the threat as quickly as he could so that we could give our full attention to Neal. To be fair we got him home in mostly one piece."

"Let's say I believe you…"

"Which you clearly don't." Frost said morosely.

"Why doesn't Neal remember any of this?" Peter demanded.

"Because he has a concussion, that was the truth." Frost assured. "He just didn't get it from jumping off the balcony, Matheson gave it to him. Neal woke fairly quickly, saw the dead body, he did *not* react very well to that. Between the adrenaline, physical exertion, blood loss, the concussion, and the stress he passed out again. When he woke up at Fort Meade his memory stopped at just about the time he took the painting. Not unusual actually, people often blank out traumatic episodes, particularly if they suffer anything even resembling a head inju…"

"So why lie?" Peter interrupted with a snarl.

"You're kidding, right?" Frost looked up at Peter with an incredulous look. "I knew how pissed you were going to be just hearing the parts that Neal remembered let alone the full story. When he didn't recall the near death experience it seemed better for everyone that he didn't know."

"That's where you are wrong." Peter growled. "Neal needs to know what he's dealing with, he needs to know what he's up against when he's working with you if he's going to have half a chance of defending himself."

"I didn't think of it that way." Frost admitted. "I swear I was trying to protect him."

"You were trying to protect yourself."

"That too." Frost smiled sheepishly. "Mistakes were made."

Peter made a noise of disgusted frustration that he'd perfected over the years. He paced a few steps in each direction a few times before settling back down. Putting his hands on his hips Peter glared at Frost who responded with an innocent smile that was far too reminiscent of Neal's vulpine grin for Peter's comfort.

"So…now what?" Frost asked simply.

"I don't know." Peter closed his eyes for a moment. "Neal deserves the truth."

"But he will lose what little trust he has in me and will probably refuse to have anything to do with me ever again. He hates being lied to more than you do." Frost pointed out knowing that Peter was already having the same thought. "I would love to be able to tell you that the higher ups at the CIA would be perfectly happy to just let Neal walk away and just be an FBI Agent for the rest of his career after everything they'd done to get him where he is right now…but I'm tired of lying to you."

"Is that a threat?"

"What?" Frost asked surprised. "No, of course not…actually I guess technically 'yes', but that's not how I meant it to sound…I just…this has all gotten so complicated."

"Why couldn't you have just left him alone from the start?" Peter lamented.

"I never meant for things to go so wrong." Frost said apologetically. "Just please believe that I'm doing my best to make things right for all four of us now. I was just too eager to get out of the starting gate and I tripped, but I learned a *very* important lesson."

"No more lies."

"No more lies." Frost agreed. "However this last one…"

"Needs to stay between us." Peter agreed begrudgingly.

"I know you hate to keep secrets but sometimes its for the best. There is no need for us to fight one another, we are all good work horses here, Peter, we just need to all start pulling the cart in the same direction."

"Horses tend to wear blinders to that they have no choice but to follow orders on where they are going."

"Then my analogy is better than I thought. You think I'm top dog at the CIA?" Frost asked with a rueful chuckle. "Peter, they own my ass too, I just don't mind."

Frost sat up straighter and squared his shoulders as he narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow, clearly attempting to take on the persona of someone he knew.

"'Frost!'" Frost barked in a deep stereotypical angry Commanding Officer voice. "'America wants to treat India like the prettiest woman we've ever seen so she'll dance with us, go get her that blue diamond you keep yammering on about.'

'Yes, Sir!'" Frost replied enthusiastically in a mockery of his own voice. "'…how exactly do you want me to do that?'

'I don't care, just do it! Any means necessary. Now get the hell out of my office!'

'Right, I'm on it.'."

Frost ended his little one man show with a smile that faded fast as he thought over what he had done in the name of 'any means necessary'. Peter doubted that the conversation with his boss had gone in anyway like the performance he'd been given, but he understood the general idea.

"I did what I felt was best at the time and I got an Agent killed and sent Neal into a death spiral." Frost said more to himself than Peter as he stared at the bottle of whiskey. "However there are always costs to war and everything I've done since I first joined the Army has been working towards making sure we win and I will continue to do so until my dying breath without regrets."

Peter didn't have a good response to the passionate speech that Frost had delivered with a tone that suggested that he was working more to remind himself that he felt like made the right choices in life rather than trying to convince his audience of it. Frost always seemed so casual about everything, but for the first time Peter was seeing that a life of black ops did weigh heavily on Frost's heart when he had the chance to reflect on it. Peter decided that this was the real reason Frost had been so rushed to get things started with Neal. He needed to keep going forward to keep himself from looking back. Frost shifted his weight and grimaced in pain.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked automatically.

"Not really." Frost sighed with a slight slurring to his voice. "I really shouldn't have gone with Neal and Bryant, I don't have what it takes anymore to be running around out in the woods."

As the adrenaline of the confrontation wore off he was feeling the effects of the heavy alcohol content of his blood once more. He bent down to rub at his foot but couldn't seem to bring himself to actually touch the painful limb. It didn't take more than a glance to see that Frost's right foot was noticeably swollen.

"One of the problems with injuries sustained during torture is that when they flare up again you need something that dulls all the senses to cope." Frost continued in a rambling tone. "For the most part I do better than today, I only drink like this once or twice a month…more often I'm too busy making sure that Bryant's PTSD doesn't get out of hand to worry about my own problems, of course I'm sure he says the same thing of me."

"Does Bryant know you deal with your our issues this way?"

"He does." Frost nodded. "We don't ever really talk about what happened, but we are always there for each other. We have a 'Si vales, valeo' thing going on that keeps us both going."

"Si vales, valeo?"

"Latin, 'when you are strong, I am strong'." Frost clarified. "It helps when you can trade off who has to be the initial strong one. You should think about that with Neal, I know you think of yourself as the stabilizing factor in his life, and you are, but now that you're partners you have to accept the idea that he can be there for you too."

"I see you're one of those philosophical drunks."

"I am…not to mention way too talkative." Frost admitted. "It irritates Bryant to no end, but deep down he loves it when I need him. Usually I tell him when I'm struggling and he stays with me to make sure I don't drink or that if I do that I don't drown my demons too completely ...or do anything else stupid."

"Why isn't he here now?"

"If all that work Neal put into stealing that painting is going to amount to anything useful anti-terrorist wise we need to move quickly on the sale. Bryant is taking care of some important details today, I can't divide his attention right now." Frost said heavily. "I'm fine, really. Anyway, I'm glad you came by, I think this was a good talk…hopefully I'll remember it in the morning. If you don't mind showing yourself out…"

Peter looked down on Frost and the half empty bottle of expensive whiskey sitting on the coffee table. Frost had a certain peace about him now that he had explained his actions to Peter, but he also looked like he was eager for Peter to leave so he could get back to what he had been doing. Glancing at the door Peter hesitated while he thought out what he should do next. Resigning himself to a long night Peter pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Elizabeth before sitting down on the couch next to Frost. Frost watched warily as Peter leaned forward and pushed the bottle of whiskey out of Frost's reach before sitting back again.

"Peter? What are you doing?"

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

"I have to admit that it is oddly satisfying to arrest someone," Neal beamed proudly "although the thrill of being the one who is being cuffed is hard to top."

Peter just gave Neal a disapproving look.

"You're right, too easy a joke," Neal conceded "but I still couldn't resist the set up."

"Try harder next time."

"Try harder at a better joke or try harder not to make one at all?"

"Go finish your dealings with Arvid." Peter said, not taking the bait.

"You're in a mood today." Neal teased.

"Go."

Neal waited a moment by the Federal transport car that Edward Davis was currently sitting in the back of after his uneventful arrest. The skull thief, or at very least the skull fence, had returned to Arvid's with both skulls looking to make an easy sale. Unfortunately for him Neal and the small team he had put together had set up full surveillance and once the fake deal had been struck they were able to quickly step in and arrest him. Davis hadn't resisted knowing that injuring a Federal Agent would have been a much more serious crime than the one he was being arrested for. The way he had instantly named a lawyer gave Neal the impression this was not Davis's first tangle with law enforcement.

Neal was a little disappointed that his first case had been fairly anti-climatic and easy to close, but at the same time it was nice to get an easy win. What he didn't understand was why the success hadn't put Peter in a better mood. Usually any arrest, be it a careless criminal or someone off the Most Wanted list, instantly put Peter in a good mood. At the very least it put a smile on his face. Right now however Peter all business and uncomfortably serious.

There was something weighing heavily on Peter's mind which wasn't unusual, it was the fact that he wasn't even bothering to try and hide it worried Neal. Peter had been oddly quiet all morning, but in his defense it had been a very busy morning and Neal had been placed in charge of orchestrating everything so it made sense that Peter would keep to the background. However now it was painfully clear that something was going on and Neal instantly suspected Frost. Neal had hoped that now that the arrest was over that Peter might explain what was going on, and he looked like he was about to say something when one of the field Agents approached him for a signature on the transport papers for taking Davis into custody. Peter automatically took the clip board and the pen he'd be offered. He pressed the pen to the page but before he actually put his signature on it he stopped. Looking up at Neal he finally smiled as he offered him the paperwork.

"It's your arrest, Neal, you should sign it."

"Fun." Neal said with genuine enthusiasm.

Taking the clipboard from Peter along with the pen Neal placed his graceful signature to the bottom of the page. The field Agent took the papers and thanked Neal before heading off to drive Davis to holding. Peter reminded Neal that he had one last thing to do with Arvid before they could go back to the office themselves. Figuring that Peter was not going to get into any kind of serious conversation right now Neal nodded and headed back towards the mansion.

"Neal…" Peter called.

"Yes?"

"Good work."

Neal smiled and gave Peter a quick nod of thanks before continuing to Arvid's front door. Something was still clearly dividing Peter's attention, but Neal got the feeling that Peter had come to some sort of internal decision about it. The fact that he was suddenly more relaxed meant he had probably decided to come clean about whatever it was. Either way Neal suspected the ride back to the office was going to be an interesting one.

Stepping back into the house Neal found Arvid in his study standing in front of his desk admiring the twin Nazca skulls sitting on top of it. Having poured himself a bourbon Arvid sipped at it before he reached out with a slightly shaky hand to touch one of the oddly domed skulls. Neal recognized the look on Arvid's face, it was the same one he got whenever he got to hold a true master work. Neal came up and stood beside Arvid to admire the ancient skulls.

"Beautiful, aren't they, Agent Caffrey?" Arvid asked. "Mankind and Mother Nature working together as artists to form something truly spectacular."

"I can see why you wanted them." Neal agreed.

"It was more than a want, it was a need." Arvid admitted. "Seeing both these skulls together and in my reach…well let's just say I'm glad I had you here to keep an eye on my Agent Caffrey."

"Any time." Neal smiled as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small disk. "I do have something for your honesty."

"Ah, excellent." Arvid smiled brightly as he took the MRI data. "Are you sure you don't want a copy?"

"I'll just stick to the original for now." Neal chuckled.

"I have enjoyed working with you, Agent Caffrey, if you ever need a second medical opinion on anything don't hesitate to ask. In the meantime try not to get tangled up in any more 'fences'."

"Actually now that you mention it, could you check that MRI for me?"

"Any particular diagnosis that you're questioning?"

"A concussion."

"Unfortunately despite popular belief to the contrary most concussions do not show up on MRI or CT, those test are performed when there is head trauma to rule out any active brain bleeding. Are you having any symptoms? Headache, coordination issues, vomiting, vision or hearing changes?"

"No." Neal shook his head. "Nothing like that. I feel fine."

"Then I'd say you're safe."

"Thank you."

Neal hadn't really been worrying about his health, he had been hoping to get confirmation of Frost's story or rather evidence to doubt him. He knew that whatever it was that was bothering Peter today Frost had at least something to do with it. He hadn't told Peter but he had woken this morning from a very similar nightmare as the previous morning. Shaking off violent chaotic images Neal focused on his current case.

"Thank you for everything, Dr. Arvid." Neal said offering his hand to Arvid to shake.

"Please call me, James." Arvid replied shaking Neal's hand. "It has been a pleasure, Agent Caffrey."

"I do need to take the skulls with me."

"Of course, by all means." Arvid nodded.

"I mean the *right* skulls." Neal corrected with a knowing smile.

A brief look of shock passed across Arvid's features. Neal watched amused as Arvid desperately tried to come up with a reply. It was obviously his first attempt at crime, he didn't even have a plausible defense ready, not even a basic 'I don't know what you're talking about'. It didn't take him long to realize that he had been caught and he cast his eyes to floor with an expression of guilt mixed almost perfectly with shame that made Neal feel sorry for him. He knew that Arvid's collecting was a sickness and he genuinely liked the man.

Arvid went around the desk and opened the deep drawers to pull out the twin Nazca skulls that Davis had stolen from Fitz. The pair that was on the desk were genuine Nazca skulls, but were part of Arvid's collection already. He had switched out the less valuable skulls with the pair that he had coveted for so long when he'd been left alone with them during Davis's arrest. Placing the twins on the desk carefully Arvid looked up at Neal apprehensively.

"I suppose you are going to arrest me now." Arvid sighed.

"No." Neal shook his head. "This can be our secret. You didn't actually let me walk off with the wrong ones. Plus it was my fault for leaving you alone with the evidence after the arrest, I do not want to have to admit that to Peter."

"I didn't plan to do it, I just couldn't stop myself when the chance came up. I regretted it the moment you came back, but by then it was too late and I didn't know how to back out."

"I understand. Crimes of opportunity are often the most fun and the hardest to resist."

"Fun?"

"Or so I've been told." Neal replied innocently.

"How did you know? The differences in these skulls are extraordinarily subtle."

"I wasn't looking at the skull, I was looking at you." Neal explained. "Your hand shook earlier, surgeons are notorious for having dead steady hands even under pressure. I figured something had you particularly stressed, it didn't take a huge leap in logic to guess what it was."

"I'm a terrible liar, I shouldn't have even tried." Arvid admitted sheepishly.

"It's my professional opinion that a life of crime is not for you."

"No." Arvid agreed. "Not...uh...not that I'm complaining, but why are you letting me go?"

"Let's just say that I know how important second chances are, and I know a good man when I see one."

"Well you certainly prove what they say about that sort of thing." Arvid smiled.

"What?"

"It takes one to know one."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Alright, sorry if that last chapter was a bit dull this one is...probably no better. I just need to wrap up the Fitz case since I did start it, and now of course I have to fix some other things. However, hopefully I'm back on track after this and I can actually introduce a proper villain soon. :)

Chapter Twenty

"Peter, I will admit that I don't know DC very well yet, but I'm still fairly you're going the wrong way."

"I know where I'm going."

"Are you sure?" Neal asked skeptically as he looked at his phone. "Because according to my GPS the Federal Building is back that way."

"I know where I'm going." Peter repeated.

"Fine. Don't ask for my help when we end up in the Potomac."

When Peter didn't comment further Neal gave up on trying to get him to explain what was going on, he'd been oddly quiet since the arrest and he was continuing that streak now. Sitting the passenger side of Peter's car Neal just stared out the window at the historic city. They did eventually end up at the Potomac river, but they manged to safely cross over it rather than Neal's prediction that they'd drive into it. Pulling into the parking lot of the East Potomac Park Peter pulled his cell phone out. Opening the glove box Peter placed his phone inside and looked to Neal, silently suggesting that he do the same.

Deciding against arguing Neal added his own cell phone to the glove box. Closing the box Peter wordlessly got out of the car and started to walk over towards the path that lead to Hains Point. Getting out of the car as well Neal caught up with Peter and walked with him to the Potomac river. Peter rested his forearms against the railing and stared out over the river at the Capitol City. Neal leaned against the rail as well but he was looking at Peter instead. He had come to the conclusion that Peter had left their cell phones behind so that Frost couldn't as easily listen in on them. Peter didn't say anything at first, clearly debating the pros and cons of whatever it was he had to say.

"Does the name Carl Matheson mean anything to you?" Peter broke the silence.

"No." Neal shook his head. "Should it?"

"He tried to kill you."

"What?"

Peter turned his attention away from the city and over to Neal. Seeing his concern Neal stayed quiet while Peter recalled his evening with Frost, starting with the knife Aurbrey had found and finishing with his agreement with Frost to keep Matheson a secret. Neal rubbed at the slash in his arm as he listened to the latest story as to how it had gotten there. Peter had never believed in the fence story and hearing about the attack Neal found that he wasn't all that surprised either.

"I agreed with Frost not to tell you simply because I didn't know what he'd do if I didn't." Peter finished the story. "I can't make my mind up about him."

"Do you think it was an honest case of wrong place wrong time or do you think he used me as bait?"

"…I don't think you were bait." Peter admitted after a moment's thought. "Frost has the resources to set a proper trap if that's what he wanted to do. If Matheson had been his main target he would have descended on him with surgical precision, you would have never even known he was there let alone have gotten close enough to get hurt."

"That's an excellent point. In that case I'm still inclined to believe that he and Bryant mean well."

"Mean well?" Peter repeated. "They almost got you killed."

"But they still got me home alive."

"They lied to us both."

"How well would the truth have worked out for Frost that night he brought me to your place?" Neal continued to play Devil's Advocate.

"You're suggesting this is my fault?"

"I'm suggesting that Frost looked at all his options and took the one that he felt best served his goal of make a us a team."

"He chose poorly." Peter said darkly.

"Only because Aubrey found the knife." Neal smiled.

"You and Frost are more alike than I like to admit." Peter sigh. "You both truly believe that something isn't wrong as long as you don't get caught."

"You know it's a good thing you didn't take that bet about Aubrey," Neal mused "I'd owe you a thousand dollars."

"This is serious, Neal."

"I know, but I also think it's a big step that Frost would trust you with the truth as well as trust you not to tell me…kind of a misplaced faith obviously, but still progress."

"He was extraordinarily drunk."

"Another good sign…sort of."

"How is that in anyway a good sign?"

"For one because it shows that he does feel remorse, although I think we need to work on helping him cope with it better, and second he let you see him vulnerable. I doubt that's an honor he's bestowed on very many."

"I would have been happier with the honor of just getting the truth the first time around, rather than honor of making sure he didn't spend the night pass out on his bathroom floor."

"Did you spend the whole night with Frost?" Neal asked surprised.

"I did." Peter admitted.

"You're such a softie." Neal teased.

"I couldn't just leave him like that."

"Of course you could have, but the fact that you didn't tells me that there is hope for the four of us yet."

"Assuming he doesn't send us both to Guantanamo Bay for me telling you all this."

"I don't think that's likely." Neal chuckled.

"We'll see."

Neal smiled and turned around to lean his back against the railing. He stretched out his injured arm and took notice of the fact that his hand wasn't cramping up. It was a relief to learn that he'd earned the injury honestly rather than just getting caught on a fence like a wayward horse. With the chaotic dreams revealed as memories he felt more control of the symptoms. Peter looked at Neal and noticed him opening and closing his hand.

"You're really okay with all of this?" Peter asked seriously.

"I am. I'm glad Frost told you, and I'm glad you told me."

"I am too."

"Were you considering not?"

"No. I just wasn't sure that I'd be happy that I did or if I was going to have to help you run from the CIA if you had decided you were done with Frost."

"You'd do that for me?" Neal beamed.

"I would…but I wouldn't have been happy."

"I bet not." Neal chuckled.

Peter managed to smile. After a few minutes of silence Peter decided against diving any deeper into what happened with Frost. Neal followed along as Peter headed back towards the car. Along the way back to the Federal Building Peter talked mostly about the kind of paperwork he was expecting to see on his desk in the morning concerning the Fitz case.

Neal took it as a good sign that Peter was willing to talk about FBI work. Getting back to the office Neal went with Peter into his office to avoid the egregious amount of mundane filing that had been discussed along the way. Peter had barely sat down when the intercom buzzed to inform him that there were two gentlemen from the National Art Gallery to see him about security at an upcoming event. Beyond the doubt in the secretary's voice about the men being who they said they were Peter knew that Elizabeth would have told him if the Gallery were she worked had any intention of contacting him.

"It's Frost and Bryant isn't it?" Neal chuckled.

"Twenty-four hours without them, that's all I ask." Peter sighed.

Peter told the secretary to let them in since there was no sense in trying to keep Frost out. Dressed in an untucked button down shirt and jeans Frost entered the room with his usual exuberance, he had a crutch under one arm to help with his aggravated ankle but he seemed to be in good spirits. Bryant didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep and he was keeping closer to Frost's side than usual.

"National Gallery?" Peter asked disapprovingly. "You know this is the FBI, you can just tell people here you're with the CIA."

"Unlike you FBI guys who are constantly flashing your badges we Spooks like to keep a little more low profile."

Peter looked over the six foot tall, crutch welding, one eyed man with obvious military background standing in his office in casual dress pretending to be an Art Gallery curator.

"Mission accomplished." Peter said drily.

"Okay, so I'm not at the top of my 'spy craft' today." Frost admitted.

"What do you want?"

"We came down here for a few reasons, partly because you two don't have high enough clearance to visit our office, which I'm working on. But mostly because we wanted to congratulate Neal on his first official collar. Congratulations, Neal."

"Thanks."

Neal suddenly found himself under the powerful scrutiny of Frost's good eye. Neal didn't blink or back down but he did find Frost's sudden attention unnerving. Neal hadn't meant his response to be quite as cold as it had sounded, but he found that now that he was looking at Frost he was more upset about him lying to him than he'd previously thought.

"Peter told you." Frost stated knowingly.

"He did." Neal confirmed.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Damn." Frost swore in frustration.

Neal held his breath not sure what was going to happen next. He hadn't expected Frost so sound so upset. Frost shifted his weight onto his crutch so he could fish into his back pocket. Neal furrowed his brow as Frost pulled out a wad of folded bills and handed them to Bryant. Taking the money Bryant flipped through it as he counted to himself.

"That's just rude." Frost complained to Bryant.

"Last time you were ten short."

"It's all there." Frost assured looking hurt.

"What is going on here?" Peter demanded.

"Remember that hundred I lost to Bryant when Aubrey found the knife? Well I bet him double or nothing that you'd keep last night to yourself."

"You really thought I'd keep the truth from my partner?"

"I really thought you'd never admit to spending the night babysitting me." Frost clarified.

"Thank you for that by the way." Bryant said honestly.

"Another part of the reason we are here was I was going to tell Neal the truth myself. Once the hangover passed I realized you were right, Neal does need to know what he's dealing with when he's with us, as do you. But now that that's all settled…" Frost reached into his back pocket again and brought out two credit card sized pieces of dark blue plastic with an iridescent hologram of an eagle stamped on them "here, takes these. *Don't* lose them."

"What is this?" Neal asked as he tilted the card to admire the high detail hologram.

"They are your passes onto JBAB."

"JBAB?"

"Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling, it's Navy/Airforce base. The four of us are going on a trip and Bryant and I do not fly commercial."

"Whoa, wait, a trip?" Peter asked nervously. "Where are we going?"

"Boston, Massachusetts or as I like to call it 'the scene of the crime'."

"Scene of crime? You mean…"

"The Isabella Stewart Gardner heist."


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Just so you know I haven't given up on this story, and thank you to everyone who hasn't give up on me. :) Hugs! I will be a little slow to update (as I'm sure you've noticed). Historically around chapter 20 is when I need a quick breather from any one story line to recollect my thoughts and the same thing is happening with this story.
> 
> Gardner Note: 99% of the facts about the Gardner Heist in this chapter are true, right up to the point where Neal starts guessing the motive behind the theft. This is still an open FBI case that actually made the news again May of this year when the FBI raided the house of aging mobster, 81 year old Robert Gentile...for the third time. They are very convinced he either has or at least had the art, and with good reason. He told two undercover FBI Agents last year that he had access to two of the of the pieces and four years ago during another raid they found a handwritten list of all the art that was taken along with estimates of the value in his home. It would be *amazing* if any of the art was recovered and it is encouraging that the FBI is still working hard to make that happen.
> 
> However, I will be ignoring the Gentile lead in favor of a pure fiction resolution to the heist.

Chapter Twenty-one

"I can't believe I've been talked into this."

"What? You're the one who said I shouldn't be playing with Frost and Bryant on my own."

"I know, and I stand by it."

"You're just not happy about it." Neal smiled.

"Not particularly."

"Cheer up. It will be fun. I love Boston, and it's just a trip to a museum. What could possibly go wro..."

"Finish that sentence and I will never speak to you again." Peter interrupted seriously.

Neal made a show of taking a deep purposeful breath to finish his fate tempting question but ended up laughing at the narrow eyed death glare Peter shot him. Neal decided against calling out Murphy's Law and stayed quiet, just in case something did go wrong today. Happy with the silence Peter pulled up to the guard station at Anacostia and rolled down the window. The Airman First Class took the identification cards that Frost had given them, furrowing his brow he inspected the holographic card carefully before giving Neal and Peter a close inspection as well. Without a word he handed the cards back and after signaling for the gate to be opened he waved them through.

"We're looking for airstri..."

"Follow the red signs." The Airman interrupted Peter flatly.

"Thank you."

"I'm guessing that we're expected." Neal smiled as Peter carefully navigated through the busy base.

"Fancy cards or not we wouldn't have gotten this far if we weren't."

"Yeah, Military Bases were always one of the place I tried to avoid trespassing on."

"'Tried'?" Peter questioned.

"You don't want to know."

"You're right, I'm sure I don't."

Neal was contemplating sharing the story anyway when they caught sight of Frost and Bryant near one of the smaller hangers. Frost still had one crutch tucked up under his arm to help with his still painful ankle. Peter pulled the car up to an open space that Bryant waved him towards. Frost was moving better than the day before as he used the single crutch for just a touch of support as he walked over with Bryant but he was still limping more than usual.

"Why don't you ever let Neal drive?" Frost teased as the men got out of the car.

"It's because he has control issues."

"It's because you haven't had a valid drivers license in over a decade." Peter corrected.

"Depending on your definition of 'valid' it's been a lot longer than that." Neal chuckled.

"I'm guessing Peter doesn't consider the one I got you at the Academy valid." Frost added.

"Did he have to pass a drivers test to get it?" Peter asked.

"Not exactly."

"Then 'no'."

"It's okay," Neal shrugged "I don't mind being chauffeured around."

"Well then, you're going to love this." Frost beamed proudly. "Come, Gentlemen, our chariot awaits."

Frost turned to lead the group inside the large open hanger doors. Neal noticed Bryant hung back a bit, guessing that he wanted to talk to Peter Neal tugged on Peter's sleeve to bring Bryant to his attention before leaving the two men to catching up with Frost. Neal glanced up approvingly at the Gulfstream G650 parked in the hanger but his attention was mostly on Frost. Once inside the hanger Frost looked over his shoulder at the fact that Bryant hadn't followed him in and sighed heavily.

"Frost?"

"I really messed up, Neal." Frost admitted. "I broke my promise to not drink alone, Bryant is pretty pissed at me."

"Understandable."

"I hate to disappoint him, but I was having a rough time." Frost worked to explain himself. "Every other time I've called him or rather he's just been there, we're not often apart. You know how it is, we don't really have lives outside the CIA."

"The FBI has the same effect. Peter spends more waking hours a week with me than Elizabeth."

"Exactly, it's more than a job. It's why they are called 'partners' and not 'coworkers', but as much as I think Bryant would like to he can't watch me 24/7. I would have turned to him, but he had something important to do."

"And you didn't think you were going to get caught." Neal added knowingly.

"That too." Frost said ruefully. "I've never done it before, however now he thinks this wasn't a one time deal."

"Even if it was, it's not a great way to cope."

"I know, but it works for me."

"Does it?"

"You sound like Bryant." Frost smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, I'm not asking for your help in fixing this, I'm just venting."

"Next time if Bryant can't be there you know you can call me, right?"

"Thank you, Neal." Frost said sounding genuinely touched. "I will. That's generous of you considering everything that's happened lately, I really did expect you to hate me."

"You did what you felt was best, although don't take that as an open invitation to do it again."

"Of course not."

"Also I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in spending some time with a CIA Agent who becomes extraordinarily loose lipped with a little liquor, which seems like something that would be a bit of a liability for someone in your line of work."

"If Peter hadn't been a friend I would have done better." Frost assured.

"Still you had to know that he'd tell me, you had that money locked in loaded in your back pocket."

"I knew."

"So why make the bet?"

"I was hoping the money would make Bryant forget he was mad at me."

"Did it work?"

"It didn't hurt." Frost chuckled, looking like he was feeling better just talking about it. "He'll forgive me, he always does."

"Always a good quality to have in a friend."

"You can't be as close as we are and not be willing to accept one another's weaknesses."

"What's Bryant's weakness?" Neal asked out of curiosity.

"...I am." Frost admitted quietly.

"What?"

"He changed the entire course of his life for me, and I let him do it. Worse thing I ever did to him, but I selfishly don't regret it."

Before Neal could ask any further questions Peter and Bryant finished their own quick private talk and joined them in the hanger. Frost smiled hopefully at Bryant and although Bryant shook his head sadly he had lost the concerned look in his eyes that had been there early. Neal wasn't sure what Peter had said to him but it seemed to put him back at ease. Seeing the change as well Frost brightened and threw his arm over Bryant's shoulder, pulling him off balance as he dragged him closer. Bryant resisted the affection at first but quickly gave in with a roll of his grey-blue eyes.

"We good?" Frost asked brightly.

"For now." Bryant conceded.

"Good enough." Frost beamed. "Time to fly like a G6."

"I hate that song." Bryant huffed.

"Wait, we're taking this plane to Boston?" Neal asked excited.

"I told you Bryant and I don't fly commercial."

"This fancy egg crate with wings belongs to the Military?" Peter asked doubtfully looking up at the classy private jet.

"Nope, this is a CIA impound."

"You guys impound some nice stuff." Neal said approvingly.

"Only the best."

When Bryant turned to head towards the plan Frost mouthed Peter a silent 'thank you'. Peter just nodded, Neal knew that Peter understood what it was like to have partner that was self destructive at times and it would probably be good for them both to have someone to commiserate with. With everything seemingly put in place Neal followed Bryant up the door that had been folded down into a ladder. The inside of the sixty-six million dollar private jet was just as flashy as Neal had hoped and with a top speed of Mach .925 they were in Boston in practically no time at all. Even Peter had to admit that it was a sweet ride, although he didn't use that exact phrasing. Arriving at Hanscom Air Force Base it was only a short drive through the winding streets of Boston to get to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in the Fenway neighborhood.

The Museum wasn't open for another few hours so they had the house to themselves after the curator had welcomed them inside. The curator was pleased to have the FBI's attention, even after 26 years the museum was forever hopeful that the paintings would be returned. The empty frames from the eleven missing paintings and drawings still hung on the walls in honor of the lost works and in preparation for their return.

The home-like museum had paintings and work from all over the world and through the ages covering every available surface of the small viewing rooms. The center of the three story Venetian palace held a beautiful fully planted courtyard with an intricate mosaic in the center and a wonderfully detailed fountain at one end that was surrounded on three sides by a raised open air stone hallway that led into the show rooms. As they stepped into the Yellow Room Neal marveled at the detail that Isabella had placed into everything right down to the bright yellow silk woven wall paper. Bryant, Frost and Peter all held more a curious interest in the surrounding rather than the deeper emotional response that Neal felt.

"This place seems fairly disorganized." Peter noted looking at a walls that seemed haphazardly covered in art that varied in subject from seascapes, to wildlife to portraits.

"Part of Isabella's wishes for the museum was that the collection remain as she had placed it." Neal explained. "She was a woman far beyond her time, although it can be hard to divide the fact from the fiction in her life as she quote to say 'never ruin a good story by telling the truth'."

"I can see why you like her."

"She saw art as few people do, and she wanted to share that view. She enjoyed the intimate atmosphere of a private home rather than a sterile museum set up. Also this first room may seem random, but the art in here is all from the era of the museum's founding where as the rest of the house is devoted to the past. It's a little cluttered but it's beautiful in its own way. The architecture is a work of art in it's own right as well which Isabella oversaw herself."

"The courtyard is stunning," Peter agreed. "Elizabeth would love this."

"If you ever want to borrow the jet to bring her up here for the night just let me know." Frost offered.

"I will take you up on that offer if I ever screw up to royally with her."

"No need to wait until a mishap."

"Peter doesn't want to raise the bar too high on 'date night' without some kind of emergency." Neal explained.

Peter reached up and touched his finger to his nose to signify that Neal was correct.

"You're such a romantic, Peter." Frost chuckled. "You know that every once in a while you gotta sweep the gal off her feet."

"Slow and steady wins the race." Peter said before shaking his head. "No. Stop. I'm not discussing my marriage with you any further."

"Careful, Peter," Frost teased "we just might becoming friends."

"Why are we here?" Peter asked to change the subject quickly. "There isn't anything here that isn't in the FBI file back in DC, it's been 26 years there isn't going to be any additional evidence here."

"I thought it would help to see the museum in person."

"You just wanted to impress Neal with the fancy plane in case he held any residual grudge over being lied to."

"Did it work?" Frost asked Neal.

"It did."

"Awesome." Frost winked. "Actually what I really wanted to do is get the heist from a professional thief's perspective. The FBI has been over this case a million times, but I don't think they've taken a look at it from a different angle."

"The heist seemed poorly planned, and maybe it was. The FBI has long assumed that the paintings taken were chosen pretty much at random." Bryant spoke up as he reached into the side satchel he was carrying and pulled out a small sheaf of paper. "However, if Neal can find a pattern we might have a fresh lead. The museum only had cameras in the front at the time, but they did have motion sensors. This is a step by step walk through of where the two thieves went and when."

"I thought if you could see the art around what they took it might give you some insight into why they targeted the ones that they did." Frost said. "There is so much here and a lot of it is more valuable than what they took."

"They also had all night, and yet they only took eighty-one minutes." Peter added. "They had the two guards tied up after gaining entry by pretending to be cops, the guards didn't have time to raise the alarm by the time they realized their mistake. They took two leisurely trips to their car so it wasn't like they felt like they were in a rush."

"Two kids loose in a candy store and they didn't stuff their pockets to overflowing." Neal noted. "I've always thought their choice of paintings was simply amateur, never really thought about a targeted attack. Is it possible that these were Ivory List items?"

"As far as we know the Ivory List wasn't a thing until several years after the heist." Frost replied. "Of course just because the organized list wasn't up and running that doesn't mean something similar wasn't circulating."

Neal looked over the transcribed that Bryant had handed him. It had times and locations of movements starting from 1:24 am when the men first rang to get the guards attention. The first guard was handcuffed under the pretense that the 'cops' after first claiming to be responding to a disturbance announced to the guard that they believe that there was an outstanding warrant for his arrest. The second guard who was out on patrol was similarly detained when he returned to the front desk. Both guards were heavily scrutinized but nothing was ever found to connect them with the crime, they were young and it seems that they had just fallen for the uniforms the thieves were wearing. Neal knew from experience that he could get away with quite a bit anytime he put on a uniform of just about any description, people trusted authority for the most part.

Paper in hand Neal walked up to the second floor where the thieves started their plunder. They had instantly gone for the largest and most impressive painting in the room a self portrait by Rembrandt, however it was painted on wood not canvas and when they couldn't get the heavy wooden panels out of the frame they gave up on it. After that they had started out well, the first four paintings were obvious masterpieces to even the least art-savvy observer. The two Rembrandts, the Vermeer, and the Flinck's were all large flashy pieces, classic looking oil on canvas that any thief would assume were worth a fortune, and they were right when all was said and done they had made off with 500 million dollars worth of art.

Stepping up to the empty frame that still hung on the wall Neal shook his head sadly at the tattered edges of Rembrandt's 'The Storm on the Sea of Galilee' that remained in the frame from where they had slashed it out. Neal stared at the empty spot on the wall and couldn't help think back to Raphael's St. George and the Dragon that he'd stolen to get Kate's attention. He hadn't meant it as a malicious act, and the painting had been returned, but standing here seeing a piece of history that may never be recovered brought on some unexpected feelings of guilt considering how close the Dragon had come to being lost forever as well.

"Neal?" Peter asked concerned when Neal didn't move for a few minutes.

"So far nothing is really jumping out at me." Neal responded in a business like tone. "Everything they took here has significance and extraordinary value. They could have taken more, but what they took was worth taking."

Looking back to the paper Neal took off towards the next targets. Having failed to take the painted Rembrandt self portrait they had smashed a frame to snatch a ink drawing self portrait by Rembrandt instead, again a clearly valuable piece. The drawing seemed to just be in their way as they walked towards a flag that held a large bronze eagle on top of it. Walking towards the eagle Neal stopped and retraced his steps again.

"Okay, this makes no sense at all." Neal said as he reread the paper to make sure had had it right.

"What's wrong?"

"They walked right past two Raphaels and a Botticelli to steal what amounts to a paperweight."

"The bronze eagle from top of the flag?" Frost asked.

"Exactly."

"The FBI's best guess is that they thought the eagle was made of gold." Peter shrugged.

"No one is that stupid." Neal shook his head.

"The FBI routinely arrests criminals who post their crimes to social media, like they think we don't have computers." Peter pointed out. "People can be stupid."

"Okay, I'll give you that. The Chinese bronze vase was another insane thing to steal, and that wouldn't look anything like gold." Neal furrowed his brow. "It took a good ten minutes to pry that off off the desk it was attached to and it's worthless on the black market."

"None of the art stolen ever seems to have made it to the black market." Bryant said.

"There have been reports that the vase was prized for unknown reasons by a local mobster." Peter said.

Neal took this new information and thought about it for a moment. He flipped through the rest of the pages noting that there were several rooms that the thieves never entered, including the entire third floor. It didn't feel random, it felt like they were here for something, but perhaps got distracted along the way.

"Okay, so take the paintings because they have obvious value," Neal thought out loud "steal the vase because you think you heard that a local big shot wants it and you want to make friends, take the eagle because it might be gold, which you only see because you've come into the Short Gallery to…that's it, that's the pattern."

"What is?"

"They were hired to steal the Degas drawings."

"The five sketches?" Frost asked doubtfully. "Why?"

"I have no idea…but my gut tells me they are the key and far more special than they first appear."

"Your gut?" Frost repeated with a smile. "Peter, you must be so proud."

"I really am."

"I regretted my word choice the second I used it." Neal sighed.

"Too late, Fed, it's instinct now."


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I have not given up on this story. ;)

Chapter Twenty-two

"I love this jet." Neal smiled as he settled into the leather seat near the mini bar. "I don't see why we should drive anywhere ever again."

"Fuel efficiency?" Peter suggested.

"Plus it's a bitch to park it on the street." Frost chuckled.

"What I don't understand is why a division of the CIA designed to raise money by finding lost art is basically burning a pile of taxpayer cash by flying their Agents in a private jet to visit a museum that is in a city with literally hundreds of choices for a commercial flight."

"Our division is not really about making money, Peter, it's about making sure the other guys don't make any and garnering favor from foreign agencies through recovery of lost history." Frost explained. "Besides the CIA doesn't waste as much taxpayer money as you may think even when we do opulent things like this, we are almost entirely self funded through our various operations. We wash it all through a handful of fake billionaires to make it appear like tax dollars, but that's just to keep up appearances. I mean you don't think Donald Trump is real do you?"

"The CIA is laundering money on a national scale?" Neal asked. "That's been one of Mozzie's top ten government conspiracy theories for the past three decades."

"The fact that it's still just a 'theory' is proof of just how good we are." Frost winked.

"So the CIA is America's greatest White Collar criminal?" Peter sighed.

"I've never thought about it that way, but…basically." Frost nodded thoughtfully.

"Although I bet the real award would actually go to Congress if we all whipped out our secret budgets out and put them on the table for measurement." Bryant added.

"Thank you for that disturbing imagery, Bryant." Frost rolled his good eye.

"Any time."

Neal smiled at the pair and stretched out in the leather chair as the jet reached cruising altitude. Peter had the same look of resigned defeat that he'd perfected over the past few years working with Neal, not entirely happy with his situation working with openly proud criminal types but also unwilling to just walk away.

Bringing his thoughts back to the Gardner case Neal focused on the Degas sketches that had been taken, trying to figure out what was so special about them. He was confident that much like the Fabergé eggs that if he could just hold them and inspect then he could discover their connection. The real problem was after all these years if whoever had initially paid to have them stolen hadn't figured it out already they may have destroyed the drawings to hide the evidence.

If the men who had broken in had only taken the five drawings like they had probably been hired to do the theft wouldn't have become the National News and held the interest of the FBI for so long. It could have just been a simple break in, not the Crime of the Century. The amount of heat alone brought on by making it the single largest private collection heist may have pushed the original backers to destroy it all. Thinking of the loss of the great works Neal sighed to himself.

"Neal, something wrong?" Frost asked.

"No. Just wondering if this art is still even out there."

"There's a good chance it isn't." Peter agreed.

"I'd be lying if I said Bryant and I weren't humoring you a little by looking into this." Frost admitted. "It would be historic to recover any of it, but all in all it's highly unlikely. I would think at this point if it was out there that someone would have tried to sell it."

"Probably too difficult to find a buyer." Peter noted. "All stolen art work is risky, but those pieces in particular would hold extra complications considering that even the slightest scent of it would draw the attention of the world."

"What if we tried to buy it?" Neal asked.

"What do you mean?" Frost gave Neal a confused look.

"How do you post a 'want' ad to the Ivory List? Has anyone ever put up a request for anything taken during the heist?"

"From time to time I've seen a fleeting listings for some of the larger works that were stolen," Frost shrugged "but that's not unusual, a lot of buyers on there want the impossible."

"What if we posted looking for just the Degas set and offer a significant amount for them, three or four times their worth."

"You think after all this time they'd be willing to part with them if they have them?"

"No." Neal shook his head. "However it would show that someone else out there either suspects or knows the secret held by the Degas. If whoever has them hasn't figured it out by now they must know that they aren't going to. We might be able to catch their interest if we offer the hope of a fresh lead."

"That's a serious long shot." Bryant said doubtfully.

"But a harmless one." Neal said. "We just have to post to the list, that's basically a risk free move."

"It really isn't." Frost said. "In order to gain access to the List you have to be invited to join by a current member and even if you get an invitation you then have to 'gift' a highly valuable black market item as collateral so that if you ever tried to turn on them they'd have easy access evidence against you."

"You're in the middle of trapping a member of the List right now with that painting I stole, aren't you? Why not just add extending an invitation to his 'deal'."

"That could work." Frost mused. "What about the stolen work? We don't keep any of the art we recover, it's all been returned, plus my boss has gone for a lot of stuff over the years but handing something truly valuable to the Ivory List would be a step too far."

"Didn't you tell me you have a copy of The Sea of Galilee that I allegedly did in your basement? I know it's just a forgery but…"

"…but it's a very good one." Frost finished thoughtfully.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Neal asked cheerfully.

"The worst? Well you'll have to present your forgery to the Ivory board personally and if they recognize it or you as a fake they will kill you."

"That's a risk I've taken every time I've gone under cover for the FBI or any time I've dealt with black market buyers."

"True."

"And luckily for me the alleged artist in this case is one of the best…or so I hear."

"You'd need a rock solid alias." Frost contemplated the details.

"You're the CIA and I'm in the FBI, surely between the two of us we can create a workable alias." Neal chuckled.

"We have specialists that spend all day farming identities and building various reputations for them around the world. We could easily pick one that fits you as well as the kind of person to want in on the Ivory List."

"Having someone on the inside of the List could be very useful beyond just this stab at the Gardner works." Bryant said. "If Neal is going in I'll go with him as his personal security, all these super rich guys keep body guards on hand at all times."

"Sounds perfect." Neal nodded.

"Being military and not art aficionados has been one of the main reasons we haven't really bothered to infiltrate the Ivory List itself. You'd be a perfect in for us." Frost said before looking to Peter. "Peter, you're being surprisingly quiet…what do you think?"

"Deep cover operations tend to be high risk, but also high reward. I'm not sure how far it would get us on the Gardner case, but it has a better chance at succeeding than anything else I can think of as well as having the added benefit of a closer look at the Ivory List inner workings."

"Sounds like you approve." Frost smiled. "That…really surprises me. This is going to be dangerous."

"I don't back down from the job when it's dangerous, I back down when it's flat out suicidal or when the 'means to the ends' bend the law to the point of breaking it. However, if anyone can con their way into the Ivory List inner circle it's Neal, and bringing down the Ivory List is well within the jurisdiction of the Art Crimes division."

"So you're in?" Neal asked hopefully.

"You're the lead Agent on this case Neal, it's your call."

"Let's do it."


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: There is some truth to the story that Neal tells about the Rembrandt. In 1997 Boston reporter, Tom Mashberg, followed a lead from a black market antique dealer to a Brooklyn warehouse where he swears he was shown Storm on the Sea of Galilee briefly but was unable to inspect it closely, however he still wrote a front page article about it thinking that the man who had shown him the art was going to enter into negotiations with the FBI on the return of the art work for the reward money. Sadly no such negations took place. One odd fact that sticks in the reporters mind: he didn't notice a signature on the painting where he thought it should be, but he still believes that he saw the true lost art. The FBI continues to discount his story, even though this same reporter was sent some paint chips that same year by someone claiming to control the art that experts have connected to the same 'red lake' color that Vermeer used (also stolen was Vermeer 'The Concert' that had 'red lake') that also held crackling patterns similar to other Vermeer.

Chapter Twenty-three

"I have missed you."

"How long did this take you?" Frost asked.

"Six months, and three tries." Neal smiled at the memory as he stared at his forgery of the stolen Rembrandt. "The use of light and shadow in this work is breathtaking. Rembrandt was a true Master."

"So are you."

"It's not the same." Neal shook his head. "Just because you can play an instrument doesn't mean you can compose a symphony."

"You're far too modest, Neal."

"Could you tell Peter that?" Neal chuckled.

Frost laughed as well before turning his attention back to the painting, studying it as though it was hanging in a museum instead of stretched out on a table in the CIA evidence examination room. Neal watched him with an amused expression to see if Frost would notice the obvious glaring fault in the forgery. Frost looked up from the panting at Neal with a warm smile.

"It really is impressive, Neal."

"Thank you."

"But I gotta ask…why did you suck so hard at the signature?"

"So you do know art." Neal chuckled.

"Not at all but when I brought this to our art forensic boys back when I thought Bryant and I had found the real thing they instantly shot us down because of the signature. They said the forgery was basically perfect, which is what lead us to looking at you as the artist, but they couldn't understand what went wrong with the signature, it's painfully fake. So what gives, Neal? You're better than this."

"I didn't actually do the signature." Neal explained.

"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"You have another bet with Bryant about it?"

"Maybe." Frost smiled. "We came up with a few wild stories as to why you'd go to so much trouble and then leave out such an important detail. My best guess was that it was an intentional move to test someone before pulling a bigger con on them."

"You're close."

"So what happened? I have to know."

"I did this painting for a very particular con, I was actually trying to draw out someone who I thought had the real thing."

"You were working the Gardner case?" Frost asked surprised.

"In my own way. I painted this and let it leak to a Boston reporter that one of the Gardner works had been found so that he'd run a story on it. I had a third party bring him into a dark cluttered warehouse to take a quick look at it to whet his appetite."

"A third party?" Frost questioned. "That wouldn't happen to have been Mozzie?"

"I never reveal my sources." Neal smiled sadly remembering his friend who still wasn't returning his calls, he hadn't actually met Mozzie yet at the time he'd pulled this stunt but he'd told him all about it in later years. He had his doubts that Mozzie was ever going to forgive him for becoming a Fed, but he still held out hope.

"Neal?"

"Right." Neal shook his head to clear his thoughts. "To add credibility to the idea that the painting had surfaced after the story ran I pretended to panic and started offering it around for cheap. The hope was that the guy that I was trying to smoke out would either run to where he'd hid the original to make sure I hadn't stolen it or contact me directly to check out what I had."

"I take it he didn't do either?"

"Nope." Neal shrugged. "My guess is that he didn't have the original so all the buzz I put out there around my copy didn't stir his interest. Once it didn't work I sold this for a decent sum as a reproduction, someone must have added the signature later to try to pass it off as the real thing."

"Why not sign it yourself and get a small fortune rather than a 'decent sum'?"

"I…uh…I didn't want anyone mistaking this for the real thing." Neal admitted.

"What now?" Frost asked in a teasing tone.

"The lost Sea of Galilee is more than a work of art, it is a true piece of history that deserves respect. I've wanted to find it ever since it was stolen."

"You were thirteen when the heist occurred." Frost pointed out.

"I started my career early. I was only twenty when I painted this."

"Damn, when I was twenty I was still a year away from being forced into the military by my parents in hopes that the Army would quote 'beat some decency into me', my father said he wanted them to make a man out of me, but mostly I think he just wanted me off their couch."

"They must be proud of you now, assuming that they know what you do."

"They were." Frost said sadly. "They were both killed in a car accident during my second deployment…it's how I got involved in para-military with the CIA after I was too wounded to remain on active duty with the Rangers. The CIA black ops like men without families."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I have a new family now." Frost smiled and pushed playfully at Neal's shoulder. "What would you have done if you'd recovered the original Rembrandt?"

"I would have hung it on my wall, opened a bottle of some ridiculously expensive wine and spent a few days admiring it before returning it to the Gardner." Neal said allowing the change in subject.

"For the 5 million dollar reward of course."

"I was aware of the reward money."

"I'm sure you were." Frost laughed. "You would have had to go through the FBI to get it."

"I wasn't on their radar yet, in any case I had a plan to deal with the FBI if the time came. They were very keen to get the art back and very willing to ask no questions if any of it turned up."

"They still are, this case has been an unsightly blot on their record for a long time. I bet secretly Peter is hoping you don't solve this one. He would never hear the end of it."

"He will not." Neal said confidently.

"I'm still surprised that your plan all along was to return the art. I'm sure you could have made a hell of a lot more than five million selling the work yourself. If you'd found it all you would have been sitting on half a billion in art. You would have really let that go for a measly five million?"

"Money has never really been that important to me. It's all about the challenge. I've never wanted 'one last score'."

"Clearly not or you'd be in the wind by now."

Neal just nodded solemnly before turning his attention back to the painting with a slightly unfocused gaze as he thought back to the past. He really had been excited at the prospect of recovering the Rembrandt all those years ago. Neal had often wondered what turn his life would have taken if he had succeeded. To solve the crime of the century at such a young age might have landed him a legitimate consultant job with the FBI, but when he really thought about it he doubted he would have taken it. At twenty and on his own with a great deal of anger at a father that he thought was long since dead Neal wasn't in any kind of mindset to join any side other than his own. Lost in thought Neal didn't realize how uncomfortable the silence had become until Frost broke it.

"You know you're going to have to redo that signature, right?"

"It's not that bad."

"It's embarrassing."

"It really is." Neal smiled. "It will take me a few days to correct it and let it dry, however, I'm wondering if I should."

"The Ivory List people don't mess around, they are going to spot it right away."

"I think I want them to."

"Why?"

"All I have to do is gift them a valuable black market item to prove to them that I'm the unsavory type, right?"

"Basically."

"This is still a highly illegal forgery, it would make more sense that I know I have a fake and that I'm looking for the real deal than the idea that I'm wanting to trade in a real Rembrandt painting for some Degas drawings. Plus what if they already have or know where the original is?"

"Hmmm…" Frost said thoughtfully. "You know neither plan is perfectly solid as far as I'm concerned. You're the con artist expert, so I'll leave the call up to you."

"Honest is the best policy, even when dealing with criminals." Neal said.

"Maybe you could just fix the signature a little? Still pass it as a forgery, but at least a better one."

"Deal." Neal nodded.

"The meet isn't for another five days so you've got some time." Frost said. "I still can't believe the Ivory List is based in New York."

"Yeah, Peter is still pissed about that."

"That's a pretty big deal to be operating in his back yard without the White Collar division picking up on it."

"I didn't even have any idea. I assumed it was run out of Europe."

"They probably have a branch there too." Frost noted. "We have time to run down all the details later, but the basic plan is that Peter and I are going to be set up in one of the CIA vans near by to act as back up and surveillance. Is there anything I should know about working with him?"

"Don't let him chose the food."

"Got it." Frost chuckled before he settled into a more serious expression. "So, Bryant…"

"They way you say that makes me nervous."

"Nothing to be nervous about, Bryant is one of the best. However, working with Bryant isn't going to be anything like working with Peter."

"I trust Bryant if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that. It's the fact that you have a new role now." Frost explained. "You're lead, you're in charge. Bryant will take action if there is an obvious and immediate threat that you don't notice but other than that he's there to follow your orders."

"Posing as my bodyguard I just really need him to act as a deterrent to violence."

"Exactly, just think of him as a weapon." Frost agreed. "And like any weapon you have to be prepared to use it. Bryant and I have a whole set of codes we use together to communicate but if you spot serious trouble before he does you only need to know one: 'Foxtrot Uniform'."

"Foxtrot Unicorn?"

"Uniform." Frost corrected. "Although honestly by the time you're half way through saying 'Foxtrot' Bryant is already going to be in full swing."

"Full swing? Doing what?"

"Killing everyone in the room."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

"When is your 'house' going to be open?"

"Sorry, Peter, the hotel doesn't open for another six months. Did you have trouble getting in?"

"I had to flash my badge at a construction worker to keep him from calling the police."

"Next time just tell them you're here to see me. They know I'm here."

Peter just shook his head sadly as Neal stepped aside to let him into his apartment. They only had one more day before they headed to New York and the Ivory meeting and Peter wanted to make sure that Neal was as prepared as possible. Peter had his doubts that this operation was going to uncover any of the lost Gardner art, but he couldn't deny that it would be a considerable asset to have Neal embedded undercover in the Ivory List. The FBI didn't even know the full scope of the Ivory List and even just getting an idea of how much art and money there were moving around would be instrumental in getting full support from the higher ups to work towards bringing it down. The Ivory List wasn't always taken seriously since a great deal of it was born of rumor and wishful thinking by wealthy art collectors rather than solid viable targets. However if they could prove that it was organized and a credible threat all that could change.

Neal had answered the door wearing a white tank top that was stained in various oil paint colors that also streaked his skin. He seemed particularly energetic today as he welcomed Peter inside. He had pushed all the furniture aside in the main room and put down a heavy drop cloth over the carpet to protect it. Set up on the drop cloth was a small table covered in paints, pallets, various spirits, and paint brushes along with two easels that were back to back so that only the one with the Rembrandt forgery could be seen. Peter walked up and inspected the undeniably breathtaking copy that Neal had spent the last few days fixing the signature on.

Peter stared at the detailed painting wondering what Neal's life would have been like if he had focused his raw talent in a better direction from the start. Neal's mood had always darkened at any mention of being a true artist as if that path had been taken from him. The absence of his father had left a wound on his life that had barely begun to heal when his father had come and reopened it by betraying him again. In the end Neal had seemed to have found a strange kind of closure in the abandonment and it had helped him realize who his real family was, but it had still taken a heavy toll on him. Although he knew he probably should Peter didn't talk to Neal about his father anymore. He hadn't even decided if he wanted the FBI to manage to catch him or not. As much as Peter wanted justice for being framed for murder it would probably be best for everyone involved if they simply never heard from James Bennett ever again.

"I'm proud of you." Neal broke the silence.

"What?" Peter asked taken off guard as he was pulled out of his thoughts. "Me?"

"You're doing a very good job resisting the impulse to arrest me for this." Neal gestured towards the Rembrandt.

"Believe me, it's not easy."

"You didn't even reach for your cuffs." Neal teased.

"They never work on you anyway."

"True."

Neal chuckled lightly but he appeared somewhat uneasy now that Peter was paying better attention to him. It wasn't often that Neal gave off a nervous vibe so when it did it usually meant something big had happened. Looking at him closer Peter noticed that the paint that marred his skin and shirt was mostly in bright vibrant colors which was in stark contrast to the deep muted colors of the Rembrandt. Since he'd only been painting over and redoing the signature there wouldn't have been any call for the shocking colors or even the mess. Peter furrowed his brow as Neal suddenly flashed him his patented 'I'm hiding something that I hope you figure out but I can't just tell you' smile. It was a look Peter had grown accustom to over the years and was subtly distinct from the version where Neal was hiding something that he hoped Peter didn't figure out.

Peter circled around the easel with the Rembrandt to look at whatever Neal had been painting on the other one which was situated to get better light. The large bold work was abstract but at the same time the use of deep blues and grays up the sides with contrasting flame orange and reds that rose up out of the center sharply reminded Peter of the Manhattanhenge. The Manhattenhenge, also called the Manhattan Solstice, occurred twice a year in New York when the setting sun aligned perfectly with 42nd street causing the sun to glow in the gap between the rows of iconic skyscrapers. Peter missed the city just looking at the streaks of color but at the same time it made him smile at the memory of the few times he'd seen the spectacular event himself with Elizabeth.

"Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." Peter replied honestly. "I've never really understood abstract art, but this one is different."

"Thank you."

"I don't recognize it from anywhere. Did Frost ask you to do this for something?"

"No." Neal picked up a brush and cleaned up one of the lines. "There, all done. I'll sign it once it dries."

"Neal…as much as it relieves me that you're painting again you can't sign it. Even if you don't intend to sell it you know that the signature turns it from a reproduction into a forgery."

"Not if I sign my own name." Neal smiled proudly.

"Wha...wait, this is an original work?"

"It is and trust me, I am just as surprised as you are." Neal chuckled as he instantly lost his nervous edge. "I was working on the Rembrandt and I suddenly wanted to do something more, something of my own. I've tried before in the past but I've never done anything that I felt truly worked until now."

"You've always had the talent, Neal, you just had to find the heart."

"I finally know who I am," Neal agreed "and it's who I want to be."

Peter smiled warmly at Neal. He knew how hard Neal had fought to get to this point and it was good to see that he was proud of where was. Peter had to admit that there had been times that he'd feared that Neal was a lost cause, destined to either add to the recidivism rate or simple get himself killed. For as much damage and heartbreak Frost had caused Neal the end results for him were beyond anything Peter could have hoped for. Peter had still found himself harboring anger towards Frost for tearing Neal down to the point of almost killing him in a vicious cycle of pain and drugs. However much like what had happened with his father Neal seemed to have needed to lose everything before he could find what really mattered.

Turning his attention to the painting again Peter saw a new image in the splashes of contrasting colors: a phoenix born from the ashes of its own destruction.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Raise your hand if you forgot that Neal had a slice down his forearm that still hasn't had a chance to heal yet? *author sheepishly raises hand*
> 
> Other Note: Kryptos is real, the sculptor recently gave out a new hint but it still remains unsolved.

Chapter Twenty-Five

At the bathroom sink Neal was finding it difficult to clean the oil paint off his arm where he still had the line of stitches from the knife gash down his forearm. It felt wonderful to be painting again but it was an undeniable mess. The clean cut was healing well but stitches weren't due to be taken out for another weeks so he did his best to work around them. After spending a good fifteen minutes removing the paint off his skin as best he could Neal gave in leaving a good portion of it around the injury before changing into a clean shirt. Neal stepped back out into the living room where Peter was leaning against the kitchen island leafing through a small stack of pages with seemingly random letters printed across them numbered out into blocks and lines. Peter had come over for a social visit but he'd only been in Neal's apartment for about ten minutes before Frost called and asked if he could meet with them both to discuss the up coming mission. If Peter had his suspicions that Frost already knew that he and Neal were together making for an easier meet up he didn't voice it.

"What's with the nonsensical word search?" Peter asked.

"Frost gave me that. It's a copy of Kryptos."

"Kryptos?"

"Have you been to the CIA headquarters in Langely?"

"No."

"Trying to stay out of the lion's den?" Neal teased.

"I just never really had any need to visit Langely."

"Well outside the CIA Headquarters there is a large bronze statue featuring this code in four panels. It was placed there in 1990 and since then the code for the first three panels has been decoded but the last one remains one of the most famous unsolved codes in he world. Supposedly it's a riddle within a riddle that can't be solved until all four panels are decoded. Only the artist, the cryptographer and the director of the CIA knows the answer."

"And Frost wants you to decode it?" Peter asked.

"No, he actually gave it to me to give to Mozzie as a peace offering."

"That was thoughtful of him, but Mozzie has to know about the code already."

"He does, and it's been driving him crazy for more than twenty years." Neal chuckled. "But he's never seen this version, in fact there are only a handful who have since this version isn't public. The original artist made a few errors when he made the statue."

"Errors in a coded message must make it that much harder to solve."

"It does. Some were done intentionally to make the art look more balanced and some unintentional because he wasn't a cryptographer himself even though he was working with one. This copy of Kyrptos is the original draft from the actual cryptographer before it was sculpted so there are no mistakes."

"So Mozzie might have hope of actually solving it…I can't imagine him wanting that kind of notoriety though."

"He wouldn't tell anyone what the answer is if he figures it out."

"He'll just enjoying knowing something no one else does." Peter nodded.

"Exactly. He claims to have decoded the other three before anyone else he just didn't gone public, but I don't know if that's true or not."

"I wouldn't doubt it either way." Peter smiled ruefully. "How are you going to get the copy of Kryptos to Mozzie? Do you even know where he is these days?"

"I'm sure he's still in New York, but contacting him isn't easy. I'm going to have to leave this with a mutual friend and hope he gets it. I knew he was going to be angry with me, I just didn't think it was going to last this long. It's not even the FBI side of things that upset him, it's the CIA part of the deal."

"In that case extending a CIA code as an olive branch might not be the best move."

"I didn't think of that."

"Have you spoken to Mozzie at all since you moved?"

"He answered his phone once for me, he called me a 'Turnsuit' and hung up."

"Ouch. Clever, but cold." Peter said sympathetically. "It's only been six months, give him a little more time. Although even if Mozzie doesn't want the code it really was nice of Frost to try and help you patch things up with him."

"Frost really wants this team to work." Neal smiled.

"I think it's more than that." Peter admitted. "I think he wants your friendship to work."

"So you think I've been upgraded from 'asset' status?" Neal teased.

"I do."

Peter turned as there was a knock at the door.

"Speak of the devil." Neal smiled. "It's open."

"I don't see why you complain about me letting myself in here when you just leave the place unlocked anyway." Frost joked as he stepped into the apartment.

"It's a little different when I actually invite you in." Neal pointed out.

"Vampire rules, got it." Frost nodded with a bright smile.

Neal shook his head sadly and decided against pointing out that technically once you invited a vampire inside they were free to come and go as they chose. Frost had a large back pack along with a tube art carrying case that he kept with him as he walked over to look at the new signature on the painting. Making a noise of approval Frost walked back over to the pair and put the back pack and art case on the counter next to the copy of Kryptos.

"I brought toys." Frost beamed. "Although that's not really why I'm here."

"Why are you here?" Peter asked.

"Toys first, business second." Frost said as he punched a code into a small key pad that was integrated into the fabric of the back pack. "I can get you two one of these packs too if you think you'll use it, if you try to force it open, get the combo wrong or cut the fabric it destroys the contents by exploding…which it will also do if it gets shot or knocked into too hard so pluses and minus when you're wearing it."

"I think I'm good." Peter said taking a step back.

"I don't usually have anything secret enough to risk exploding to carry around." Neal added.

"I don't use it very often, but I need it today." Frost reached in the bag and pulled out a silk vest that would fit in well with the rest of Neal's wardrobe. "Okay, so this isn't bullet proof, but it is bullet resistant."

"Resistant?" Neal questioned as he took the surprisingly heavy tailored vest.

"I had a water resistant watch once," Peter said unimpressed "it died the first time I took a shower with it."

"This hopefully better than your watch. If someone fires at you with a hollow point, which is mostly likely what anyone running security for the Ivory List crowd would have it helps flatten out the bullet before it enters the body as well as significantly slows it down. So you're still going to end up shot, but the bullet won't go as deep or strike bone with as much force, gives you about a 30 percent better chance at survival."

"Better than nothing I guess."

"It has the added benefit of dissipating electricity fairly well so being tazed isn't as bad if they hit the vest directly, that wasn't a planed feature it was just a happy bonus." Frost explained before pulling out a small black box that he opened revealing a tiny ear transmitter that looked familiar.

"No way. Neal is not wearing that thing." Peter protested. "One of those almost got me killed. Remember the Fisher case?"

"Peter that was like six months ago," Frost chuckled "technology has come a looooong way since then. In fact this is also a listening devices so you don't have to wear a separate piece of equipment like one of those clunky watches for that. We've also worked out the interference issue, and the speaker on this isn't capable of making a noise loud enough to be painful."

"They should have thought of that sooner." Peter said sourly.

"Hey, this tiny technology isn't easy stuff to work out. To make this thing powerful enough to transmit as well as receive we had to invent a thorium battery."

"Thorium, that's radioactive isn't it?" Neal asked warily. "This thing isn't going to give me cancer is it?"

"Cancer, no, but if it starts to get warm you might want to get it out before it goes all Chernobyl."

"Please tell me your kidding."

"Sure. Moving right along." Frost pulled out a small device that looked vaguely like a steampunk type gun. "Okay, so here's the part I'm thinking you're not going to like."

"Worse that having a small nuclear reactor in my ear?" Neal asked doubtfully.

"I really was kidding about that, for the most part." Frost assured. "No, you're not going to like this for a different reason. This is a tracking device, and I know you hate being tracked but its an important fail safe in this case."

"The gun is making me think it goes under the skin."

"It does."

"Beyond not liking being tracked I really don't like the idea of that. Can't you just put in my shoe or something?"

"If the worst happens and you're discovered and they don't just kill you anyone who knows anything about kidnapping a Federal Agent is going to strip them down. This is why I came by early so that the injection site will have a few days to heal so it's not immediate obvious. It only works well in areas that have cell phone towers or within half a mile of a special receiver and the batter only lasts about seven days and we're going to use four of them healing the wound. So it's not perfected, but it's better than nothing."

"I don't know."

"You don't have to do this, Neal." Frost assured. "I put one in Bryant this morning so he's got one, but as hard as he'll work to ensure you aren't separated I can't guarantee that won't happen."

"Peter, what do you think?"

"You know my answer, Neal."

"You've been nervous about my whereabouts ever since I got the anklet off?" Neal chuckled.

"Exactly. But if you don't want to do this I understand."

"It's only for your safety, Neal." Frost said. "If I wanted to track you against your will, trust me I have a dozen different ways at my disposal to accomplish that."

"That doesn't really make me feel better, but fine, let's do it."

"Thank you for trusting me." Frost said seriously. "Turn around and pull up your shirt, it goes into muscle just below the shoulder blade so that it causes the least amount of irritation."

"Yeah, I heard these things itch." Neal said nervously as he turned around.

"Only the larger ones designed to last for a few months have that issue. We'll have this removed when all is said and done, but you shouldn't even notice it once it's in place."

Still nervous Neal reached over his shoulders to pull up the back of his shirt to expose his back. Neal could hear Frost's breath hiss across his teeth as he saw the exit wound scar that marred Neal's right shoulder for the first time. Not really wanting to talk about it Neal was grateful when Frost simply pressed the muzzle of the tracking gun under his left shoulder blade.

"Alright, deep breath." Frost instructed.

"Does this hurt?"

"Yup."

Before Neal could protest Frost pulled the trigger. The gun itself didn't make a noise but Neal cried out in shock as he jerked away from Frost as a lancing pain radiated up his back. As soon as the device was in place the pain subsided to a dull ache but the flash of pain had instantly caused his hand to spasm curling his wrist and digging his fingers into his palm. Neal tried to cover up the reaction but Frost and Peter had picked up on it as soon as it happened.

"I'm so sorry, Neal," Frost apologized quickly "I didn't even think about this triggering your other issue, I was under the impression that it had resolved."

"It's fine, it will pass quickly." Neal said as he forced his hand open. "It doesn't really bother me any more, I just wasn't expecting the pain."

"Neal…" Peter started.

"I'm fine." Neal assured quickly.

"Peter was about to have a point, Neal." Frost said solemnly. "If your hand is going to pull this trick in the middle of a fight…"

"It's not a trick and I'm not there to fight, I'm there to con my way into the Ivory List. I've never gone into any undercover mission armed and I've always made it out alive. If things really go that wrong that's what Bryant is for. Right?"

"He makes a good point." Frost looked to Peter.

"He usually does."

"Then we will speak no more of it." Frost smiled brightly. "Okay, now for the other reason I'm here and why I brought the exploding back pack."

"Speaking of which, can you not bring high explosives into my apartment any more?" Neal complained.

"No promises." Frost chuckled as he pulled a manila folder out of the pack. "Now then, I can *not* stress how insanely classified this is. I'm not even kind of kidding. Tell anyone about this and I'm going to have to kill them, you, and then I'm going to have to beg my boss for my own life…and he won't be in a forgiving mood."

"Maybe you just shouldn't show us." Peter suggested.

"No. This is important. You need to see it."

Frost opened the folder and pulled out a series of four black and white photographs that had been printed on a dull matte finish paper. Neal was immediately aware of what he was looking at but the way Peter tensed up told him it was something big. Not handing the photos over Frost flipped through them slowly so that Peter and Neal could see them. The photos were all of a poorly lit basement cluttered with old wooden crates, several of which were open and revealed that they contained brick shaped objects wrapped in faded paper, the last photo showed a work bench covered in wires and electronics.

"Are those explosives?" Neal asked.

"Yes. Lots of them." Frost confirmed. "It's C-3, the predecessor of C-4. This stuff is left over from World War II but it still has plenty of kick left in it."

"That amount of C-3 would level half a city block." Peter said solemnly.

"And that was exactly what they were planing to do with it. However, thanks to the threads we followed after blackmailing the Ivory list buyer of the Pirhashemi painting we were able to uncover this before they were able to launch a serious attack."

"Where was this?" Neal asked.

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that there is a major American Heartland city that is unknowingly eternally grateful that you broke into the home of Mr. Bashiri and stole that painting. Even the CIA was impressed that this particular gamble paid off so well, I'm hoping we would have stopped them another way since the men involved were already under some heavy FBI and NSA scrutiny, but we might not have been in time, this allowed us to stop this threat quickly and quietly."

"Quietly." Peter repeated. "I take it this isn't making the news."

"No, no, nooooo." Frost said as he pulled out a lighter. "No, this is the kind of thing that would cause a major panic. There are wins against terrorists that are good for American morale and then there are wins that would just make things worse if they became public knowledge. A flock is easiest to protect when it feels safe and secure, when it is united and trusts its guardians."

"Are you calling people sheep?" Neal asked.

"I am, but I love my sheep and I will do anything to keep them safe from the wolves even if that means sometimes pretending the pack isn't nipping at our heels."

"You've put some thought into this metaphor."

"I have." Frost admitted as he set the edge of the photos on fire which instead of burning normally went up in a brilliant ball of light that was gone just as quickly as it started.

"Whoa!" Neal and Peter both exclaimed as they jumped back.

"It's okay, I printed it on flash paper." Frost explained. "Smokes less and burns quicker than normal paper, not to mention looks cooler when you do light it up."

"That was pretty cool." Neal agreed.

"I really shouldn't have told you about any of that let alone shown you, my boss still isn't 100% about either of you. FBI vs CIA and all." Frost rolled his good eyes in frustration. "However, you deserved to know."

"Thank you." Neal said.

Peter just nodded, giving Neal the impression that he wasn't completely convinced that what Frost was telling them wasn't just a dog and pony show. Neal wanted to believe Frost but had to admit that it would be an easy con to run if he was looking to boost confidence in their less than legal methods of getting results. Frost could see that there was still some skepticism in the room but he didn't work to explain himself further. If they successfully managed to infiltrate the Ivory List together it would be proof enough that they were an effective inter agency team with benefits to both sides.

"Sadly there is never any time to sit around and pat ourselves on the back on to the next mission," Frost smiled "we will all meet up the day before to head up to New York and go over any last minute plans. If you need anything in the next few days you have my number. Oh, and I almost forgot…" Frost picked up the art case. "Neal, this is for you."

"This isn't going to be big enough for the Rembrandt." Neal noted as he turned it over in his hands.

"What? No, it's the Pirhashemi painting from the heist. We're done with it at the CIA."

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Give it back of course."

"Give it back?" Neal repeated.

"You're an Art Crimes Agent, right? This is what you do for living…return stolen art, close cases. Is any of this sounding familiar?"

"I just meant that's easier said than done, besides it's not actually my case. Its Agent Aubrey's."

"So give it to him." Frost shrugged.

"And tell him what?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Can I just tell him the truth?"

"That you stole it?" Frost asked confused. "No, I…uh, I wouldn't advise that. Peter? What do you think?"

"I think Neal was referring more to the idea of telling Aubrey that a CIA friend stumbled across it during a classified mission and handed it over as a favor."

"Exactly." Neal smiled. "I knew I rubbed off on you at least a little with that 'creative truth' type thinking."

"I'm not proud of it, but 'yes'." Peter admitted.

"Oh, right, that makes a lot more sense. Yeah, sure, if you think that will make him happy."

"Happy might not be the right word," Neal said with a small wince "but it will get the job done."

"Well you know what they say..." Frost snickered.

"'Close enough for government work.'?"

"Exactly."


End file.
